Abuse of Authority
by Bits And Pieces
Summary: Newkirk and Kinch are sent out to meet up with some prisoners who escaped from another Stalag, and bring them back to camp to get them out of Germany. But the lieutenant in the group appears to have his own agenda.
1. Just another routine mission

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Hogan's Heroes characters. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

**Chapter 1**

A chilly breeze swept across the compound of Stalag thirteen; the mid-September sun just beginning to set, turning the sky a brilliant mixture of red and orange. RAF Corporal Peter Newkirk stood outside, leaning against the wall of Barracks two, taking one last drag off his cigarette before he had to go back inside and finish the repairs on his uniform overcoat. The days were becoming markedly cooler; the heat of the summer fading as fall took over. Soon the cold winds would start blowing, eventually bringing the snow with them, and he wanted to be prepared.

He glanced up at the sky, momentarily allowing himself to appreciate the beauty of the fiery display stretching out across the horizon. Then he let out a sigh, flicked his cigarette butt onto the ground and, pushing himself away from the wall, turned and headed toward the barracks door.

Upon entering, his attention was immediately drawn to the two men seated at the long table in the middle of the common room; Sergeant Andrew Carter and Corporal Louis LeBeau. Carter was hovering over several vertical rows of cards that were spread out on the table before him – an obvious game of solitaire – and his glance was darting between the black five in his hand and the upturned cards on the table, no doubt looking for a red six to place it on. LeBeau was hard at work writing a letter; his brow furrowed in concentration as he scribbled something down on the paper in front of him. Both men raised their heads when they noticed Newkirk standing in the doorway.

"Hey, Newkirk, when I finish this game, you want to play some Gin?" Carter asked, hoping to enlist a little company; he was growing tired of playing cards by himself.

"Sorry, Andrew, I've got to get back to fixin' me coat. Why don't you ask Louis, 'ere?" Newkirk said, gesturing to LeBeau.

LeBeau frowned. "Can't you see I'm busy writing a letter? Why don't _you _play cards with Carter? Your coat can wait."

"So can your girlfriends," Newkirk retorted.

LeBeau smirked at him. "At least I _have_ girlfriends," he replied smugly.

"LeBeau, I'm warning you…"

Just then the door to the private quarters opened, and Colonel Robert E. Hogan came striding out, coffee mug in hand; his destination the coffee pot that was warming on the stove. He instantly noticed the tense expressions on Newkirk and LeBeau's faces, and knew he better intervene. "What's up, fellas?" he asked as he lifted the coffee pot and proceeded to fill his cup.

"Nothin', Colonel," Newkirk answered, quickly masking his irritation.

Hogan set the coffee pot back on the stove and glanced from one corporal to the other; unconvinced. As his gaze landed on Carter, the sergeant's mouth opened and he began to speak; the compulsion he felt to explain the situation obviously too great for him to resist.

"Well, sir, I was asking Newkirk if he wanted to play Gin with me, but he said he had to work on his coat, so he told Louis to play cards with me, instead. Then Louis said he was busy writing to his girlfriends, and told Newkirk that at least he had some girlfriends to write to…"

"All right, Carter, I get the picture," Hogan interrupted, holding up his hand with his palm facing the sergeant, indicating for him to stop. With supreme effort, he kept the smirk from appearing on his face as he addressed his English corporal. "Newkirk, why don't you go and finish fixing your coat, and LeBeau," he turned to the Frenchman, "You can go back to writing your letters. I'll play a few games of Gin with Carter."

Carter's eyes lit up. "Really, Colonel?"

Hogan smiled. "Sure, I could use a break." He walked around the table and, just as he sat down opposite of Carter, the false-bottom bunk to his left suddenly banged up and Sergeant James Kinchloe's head poked through.

The radioman spotted Hogan immediately. "Message from the Underground, Colonel," Kinch stated as he climbed over the side of the bunk and went to join his teammates at the table. He passed the piece of paper he was carrying over to Hogan and took a seat.

Hogan took the message and quickly scanned it. "Looks like there was an escape from Stalag four," he muttered as his eyes moved rapidly back and forth across the paper, "We've got four prisoners headed in our direction. We'll need to send someone out tonight to meet up with them and bring 'em back to camp." He finished studying the message and looked up at his men expectantly. "Okay, who wants to volunteer?"

Everyone's attention suddenly shifted away from Hogan; the men becoming engrossed in their own individual tasks. Carter scooped up the cards from the table and began to shuffle them repeatedly. LeBeau stared intently down at the letter he'd been working on, scrutinizing it like it was an Allied plan to retake Paris, and Newkirk had snatched his overcoat from his bunk where he'd tossed it earlier, and was running it through his hands, looking for the spot where he had left off on the repairs that he'd started that morning.

Hogan glanced at each of them; a mixture of amusement and irritation on his face. "Oh, c'mon, fellas, this should be an easy assignment. Besides, tonight may be the last nice night we're gonna get for a while. In case you haven't noticed, it's starting to get colder."

Hogan's words were met by silence. His gaze shifted to each man once again, and as his eyes lighted on his English corporal who was fastidiously inspecting the coat in his hands, he said, "Newkirk, I bet you could use a little fresh air."

Newkirk's head snapped up, his eyes meeting Hogan's gaze. "To be honest, sir, I was hopin' to finish me coat, 'ere…"

"Oh, you've got plenty of time for that," Hogan replied, resisting the urge to smile, "And thanks for volunteering."

Newkirk's expression took on a look of resignation. "Yes, sir," he said, letting out a small sigh.

Hogan couldn't stop the lopsided grin from appearing on his face. Then he glanced at his men again. "I want someone to go with Newkirk; who's game?"

Again there was silence. Hogan was just about to make his own choice, when Kinch suddenly spoke up.

"I'll go, Colonel."

"You, Kinch?" Hogan looked surprised.

"Yes, sir. I could use a little fresh air, myself." Kinch grinned at him.

Hogan knew that Kinch didn't get to go out on missions very often. Being a black man didn't lend itself very well to passing as a German. But he also knew that Kinch must get tired of being stuck in the tunnel, manning the radio on an almost constant basis. As he mulled it over, he realized that there was no reason not to let him go with Newkirk. They only had to meet some escaped prisoners and bring them back to the Stalag. If they were caught, they could claim to be escaping, themselves. Besides, they'd done this so many times, it was beginning to become routine. What could possibly go wrong?

"Okay, Kinch," Hogan answered at last, "You and Newkirk can go."

"Thanks, Colonel," Kinch said.

"Where will they be waitin' for us, sir?" Newkirk asked.

Hogan's head swiveled to look at Newkirk. "At the usual rendezvous point. You two can take off after evening roll call. Oh, and according to the message, one of them is an American officer."

Newkirk impulsively rolled his eyes. "Oh, joy," he mumbled, then, noticing the frown forming on Hogan's face, quickly added, "Understood, Colonel."

Hogan nodded slightly, his frown disappearing. He knew how Newkirk felt about officers – the corporal had made no secret about it – but he also knew that Newkirk could be trusted to follow orders. Hogan briefly thought back to how long it had personally taken him to gain Newkirk's respect and loyalty, and he inwardly smiled. The Englishman had a suspicious nature, to be sure, but, considering their current assignment, that particular quality of his had come in handy many times. It was just one of the many reasons that made him invaluable to the operation.

Hogan brought his arm up and glanced at his watch. "And since we've got a few more hours until roll call," he said, still addressing Newkirk, "You've got some time to work on your coat." He turned back to Carter and, grinning wide, plopped his hands on the table. "And we've got time to play some Gin."

"Yes, sir!" Carter replied happily, and began to deal.

* * * * * * *

After roll call Kinch and Newkirk headed down into the tunnel through the false-bottom bunk at the far end of the barracks. They made their way to the emergency exit, and just before climbing up through the hollow tree stump above, they each grabbed a pistol from the small cache of weapons that were kept nearby. Then Newkirk ascended the ladder, and when he was clear of the exit, Kinch followed. The two men melted into the woods, setting their course for the rendezvous point; about two and a half kilometers northeast of their current position.

The night was clear, and the moon cast a welcome glow across their path, allowing them to step a little more quickly along the forest floor. A few minutes into their trek, Newkirk, who was slightly ahead, turned his head and said quietly, "I still can't believe you volunteered for this, mate. Stumblin' about in the woods just to meet up with a few blokes, what escaped from Stalag four. Why, you could be back at camp right now, catchin' up on your sleep."

"Is that what you'd be doing, Newkirk?" Kinch asked, keeping his voice low, "Catching up on your sleep?"

"You know me too well," Newkirk answered, chuckling softly.

Kinch grinned in the darkness. He did indeed know Newkirk well, as he did the other members of his team. He'd never been a big talker, preferring to hang back a little and observe the people around him; discovering early on that he could learn a lot more about them that way. Newkirk hadn't been too difficult to figure out; a loner at first glance, a bit of a rebel, seemingly more interested in saving his own skin. But underneath the surface, a heart of gold lay hidden, and once tapped, Newkirk's true nature was evident; compassion for those who suffered, concern for those who put themselves in danger to confront the evil spreading across the country, and a loyalty to his friends that ran deeper than most men could fathom. Whatever sordid past Newkirk may have had to survive to acquire the skills he now possessed, he had adjusted to a life of honor and courage very quickly once given the chance; proving to Kinch, at least, that those qualities had been tucked away inside the Englishman all along.

They continued to pick their way through the forest, making good time in the cool, still darkness. Several more minutes passed, when Newkirk abruptly stopped in his tracks without warning, causing Kinch, who was still following closely behind, to run right into him, nearly knocking him over. The sergeant quickly took a step back and grabbed Newkirk's arm to help steady him.

"Newkirk, why did you stop?" Kinch whispered fiercely at him once the Englishman had regained his footing and turned around to face him.

"Thought I 'eard somethin', mate," Newkirk whispered back, his eyes darting to the clump of trees just off to his right.

The two men stood there, motionless, their ears straining to pick up any sound coming from the indicated direction. The seconds ticked by, and Kinch was about to tell Newkirk that he must have imagined it, when they heard a rustling, and the underbrush started moving. Before either man could react, a big, fat rabbit sprinted out from underneath the bushes, followed instantly by a red fox; hot on its trail. Startled, Kinch and Newkirk gasped in surprise, but the animals were already gone.

Newkirk forcibly exhaled. "Blimey, I wasn't expectin' that!"

"Me, neither," Kinch replied, a little more calmly. "Well, at least it wasn't a German patrol."

"You got that right, mate! I'll take a fox chasin' a rabbit over a bunch of German soldiers any day!"

Kinch smiled. "Me too, Peter." Then he stared out in the direction they were headed and raised his chin; gesturing with his head. "We better get going."

Newkirk smirked at him. "Right-o," he replied. He turned around and started to once again step carefully along the path toward their destination. He could feel as well as hear Kinch following him, and his confidence grew; the sergeant's presence making him feel a little safer, a little calmer, a little more sure of himself. Kinch was a man of few words, but when he spoke, there was a subtle power to his words; an understanding borne of patience, intelligence and observation. He always seemed to say the right thing at the right time, and in all the time Newkirk had known him, Kinch had never had a single emotional outburst, much less panic or lose his cool in any situation they'd faced. As far as Newkirk was concerned, the colonel couldn't have picked a better right-hand man, and he had no hesitation trusting Kinch with his life.

The rest of their journey was traveled in silence; their concentration focused on listening for any signs of danger. At last they made it to the coordinates where they were to meet up with the escaped prisoners, and stopped. Newkirk cupped his hands around his mouth and, as he'd done so many times before, let loose a few rounds of throaty, bird-like noises; pausing in between each one to listen for a response. After a few minutes of sporadic warbling, both men became convinced that the group they were to rendezvous with wasn't there. Kinch tapped Newkirk's shoulder and pointed over to a group of bushes, and, after nodding in understanding, the corporal moved quietly over to the dense foliage and crouched down, followed by the tall sergeant.

"Where could they be?" Newkirk asked, keeping his voice low.

"I don't know," Kinch whispered back, "They should have been here waiting for us."

"Well, mate, what do we do now?"

"I guess all we _can_ do is wait."

Newkirk sighed. "I 'ad a feelin' you were goin' to say that."

Several minutes passed, and still there was no sign of the four men. Newkirk was just about to suggest to Kinch that maybe they should go look for them, when they heard the sound of rustling coming from the trees to their right. Suddenly a man stumbled into view, wearing a U.S. Army Air Corps sergeant's uniform, and he was quickly followed by a lieutenant and a corporal; also apparently members of the USAAF.

Newkirk and Kinch glanced at each other, then rose up from their hiding place and slowly approached the men. The sergeant noticed them first, and shouted out in a startled voice, ""All right, that's far enough!"

The two men from Stalag thirteen stopped in their tracks. They'd encountered this kind of reaction before, and didn't want to do anything to aggravate the situation.

The lieutenant stepped up and placed a hand on the sergeant's shoulder. "Easy there, Sergeant Thompson, I think these are the men who were sent to meet us," he said, glancing back and forth between Newkirk and Kinch, "Aren't you?"

"Yes, sir," Newkirk answered, relieved that the lieutenant seemed to know what was going on, "We're 'ere to 'elp you get out of Germany. Just follow us, sir, and we'll take you to…"

"Oh, I'm afraid we can't do that, Corporal," the lieutenant interrupted, "You see, we're missing a man at the moment. We need to find him first, and then we can follow you to wherever it is you're taking us."

Newkirk threw a glance at Kinch, and then looked back at the lieutenant. "Beggin' your pardon, lieutenant…"

"Brown," the officer informed him.

"Lieutenant Brown," Newkirk said, "But our orders are to get you back as quick as we can. But I'm sure the colonel will let us go searchin' for your missin' man, once the three of you are safe."

Lieutenant Brown gazed at Newkirk, his eyes narrowing. "I don't think you understand, Corporal; we're not going anywhere until we find our missing man."

"But, sir, we need to get you out of 'ere…"

"This isn't a request, it's an order, Corporal…?"

"Newkirk."

"Corporal Newkirk… R.A.F., obviously." Brown replied condescendingly. "Well, Newkirk, in case you haven't noticed, I'm an American officer, and we do things differently. For example, our enlisted personnel know how to follow orders…"

"That's true, sir," Kinch finally spoke up, "But _our_ orders come from a U.S. Army Air Corp Colonel, and he wants us to bring you back right away."

Brown turned his attention to Kinch. "And you are…?"

"Staff Sergeant James Kinchloe."

Brown nodded slightly. "Well, Sergeant Kinchloe, since you're obviously American, you should know how to follow orders. Now, I'm not asking you, I'm telling you… We're not going anywhere until we find our missing man." He glanced between Kinch and Newkirk. "Is that clear?"

Newkirk and Kinch quickly looked at each other and, realizing they had no choice, looked back at the lieutenant. "Yes, sir," They replied, resignedly.

"Very well," Brown said, smiling victoriously at them. "Let's go."


	2. A change of plans

The silence stretched for a few moments as Lieutenant Brown peered about in the darkness, apparently trying to determine which direction to take. At last he turned south and headed off into the woods, Sergeant Thompson falling in right behind him. Newkirk and Kinch followed the sergeant, and the American corporal in the group brought up the rear.

After a few minutes of meandering through the trees and dense foliage, Newkirk turned his head and whispered to Kinch, "'Ow does he know we're goin' in the right direction to find the man, what's missin'?"

"I was thinking the same thing," Kinch whispered back. He was becoming more and more uncomfortable about following this Lieutenant blindly, and could tell that Newkirk felt the same. "Maybe I should ask him," he said, and started to walk a little faster to catch up to Brown.

Thompson suddenly blocked his way. It wasn't difficult for him to do; being a tall, muscular man, his build similar to that of Kinch. "Where do you think you're going?" He growled menacingly.

Hearing the sergeant behind him speak, Brown stopped and turned around. He was a fairly tall man, himself, but had a much leaner physique. "It's okay, Thompson," he stated, then turned his attention to Kinch. "What's the problem, Sergeant Kinchloe?" he asked.

"Well, sir, I was just wondering how you know your missing man went in this direction?"

"Because I sent him ahead to scout out the area," Brown told him, "And he was supposed to come back and meet us at the rendezvous point. Since he hasn't come back, he must have run into some trouble."

Kinch kept his gaze steady. "Well, then, if we follow him, won't we end up in the same trouble he's in, sir?"

Brown unwaveringly returned his gaze. "We might. But there are five of us now, so we should be able to help him if he needs it." Just then an idea seemed to strike him, and he asked, "Hey, you don't by any chance speak German, do you?"

Kinch hesitated; suddenly not sure how much he wanted Brown to know about him, or Newkirk, for that matter. He threw a glance at Newkirk and saw his apprehension mirrored in the Englishman's eyes. Then he looked back at Brown and, figuring he better tell him the truth, opened his mouth to reply, when Newkirk's voice beat him to it.

"I speak German, sir."

Brown looked at Newkirk with disbelief. "You, Corporal? Humpf! I didn't think Brits could learn foreign languages; they have enough trouble with English."

Newkirk's eyes narrowed. "And just what's that supposed to mean… Sir?"

"It means, Corporal, that you English aren't as smart as you think you are." Brown replied haughtily.

The corners of Newkirk's mouth imperceptibly turned up. "I must disagree with you on your perception of those who inhabit Great Britain," Newkirk replied in a perfect American accent, "Collectively, they have a much higher intelligence quotient than any other populated area in the world."

The other men gaped at him, including Kinch. No one said anything for a few moments; having been rendered speechless. At last Newkirk piped up in his usual cockney drawl, "Well, it's the truth, ain't it? We've got a lot more brains than you bloomin' Yanks give us credit for!"

"I guess we'll see, won't we, Corporal…what did you say your name was, again?" Brown asked; the condescending tone back in his voice.

"Newkirk… Sir," He answered, practically spitting out the 'sir' part.

"Well, Newkirk, if I need you to translate for us, I'll let you know." Brown turned and began stepping carefully through the forest once again.

The rest of the men fell in line; the same order they'd been following earlier. As Kinch rejoined his place just behind Newkirk, he whispered to the Englishman, "I don't think he likes you."

"The feelin' is mutual," Newkirk grumbled.

"So, Peter, that little speech you gave; where did you… I mean, how did you come up with that so fast?"

Newkirk chuckled. "Me R.A.F. mate Finnegan back in London thought that up; he used to say it to the Americans when we'd go to the pubs. Got into a lot of fights, he did!"

Kinch grinned. "I don't doubt it."

After a few more minutes of trudging through the woods, Kinch whispered to Newkirk, "I don't know where this guy is taking us, but we really should be heading back to camp."

"You don't 'ave to sell me, mate," Newkirk whispered back, "You got somethin' in mind?"

Kinch glanced back at the corporal behind him; the one who, so far on this journey, had kept silent. He looked like a kid – early twenties, maybe – and he appeared to be along for the ride, so to speak; just following orders, knowing he didn't have much of a choice. Kinch caught his eye and smiled warmly at him. The corporal flashed him a small, nervous smile in return.

Kinch turned his attention back to Newkirk. "Maybe we can get that corporal to follow us, and take off back to the Stalag," he said.

"What about the lieutenant up there," Newkirk nodded toward Brown, "And that sergeant body guard of 'is?"

Kinch sighed. "Yeah, the colonel might not like it if we just leave them out here."

"Oh, they wouldn't be out 'ere for long," Newkirk replied matter-of-factly, "Just until the next Kraut patrol comes by and picks 'em up."

Kinch contemplated it for a moment. "You have a point," he responded at last, "I bet the colonel would be even madder if _we_ got picked up, too." He glanced up at the lieutenant and sergeant, who were quite a few yards ahead, and then back to Newkirk. "All right, let's get out of here, Peter."

"_Now_ you're talkin', mate!"

Just as Kinch started to turn back toward the corporal, they all heard a noise coming from the forest to the right of where the lieutenant was walking. Everyone froze in their tracks. They waited several seconds, which seemed to stretch on indeterminably, until at last a lone figure appeared in the darkness in front of them; a short, stocky, solid-looking man dressed in a USAAF sergeant's uniform.

"There you are!" Brown exclaimed when he saw him, "What took you so long?"

"Yeah, sorry about that, sir," the man said. Then he looked over and noticed the group following the lieutenant. "Can I speak to you alone for a minute?" he asked Brown.

"Uh, yes, certainly," Brown answered. He grabbed the sergeant's arm and led him away from the rest of the men, calling out, "Stay here, we'll be right back."

"That must be the missin' man," Newkirk announced to no one in particular.

"That's Sergeant Rodriguez," the corporal behind Kinch piped up, "He's the other guy that escaped from Stalag four with us."

"And you are…?" Kinch asked.

"Corporal Aikens."

Kinch smiled at him and reached out to shake his hand. "Nice to meet you, Aikens. I'm Sergeant Kinchloe, but you can call me Kinch."

"And I'm Newkirk," the Englishman also smiled as he stuck his hand out, "But you already knew that, didn't you?"

Aikens smiled back. "Nice to meet you, fellas," he said.

"So, what do you know about this lieutenant?" Kinch asked.

Aikens was about to reply, when Thompson, who had crept up silently behind them, spoke up. "He doesn't know anything about him," the sergeant said loudly, causing Kinch and Newkirk to jump. Then he stared hard at Aikens, "Do you?"

"No, I don't know anything at all about the lieutenant," Aikens quickly answered. "Just that he got us out of Stalag four, and he's helping us get out of Germany."

Kinch and Newkirk threw a glance at each other, and then all four men turned around when they heard Brown and Rodriguez return.

"Okay, listen up," Brown said as he stepped in front of the group, "There's something we gotta take care of before we can get out of here, and it's gonna take all of us…"

Kinch had had enough. "Pardon me, sir," he cut in, "But the four of you need to come with us, now. The longer we're out here, the more chance we have of getting picked up by a German patrol."

"This won't take long, Sergeant," Brown replied patiently, "And it needs to be done."

"The only thing, what needs to be done is the lot of us bloody gettin' out of 'ere before we get caught!" Newkirk exclaimed. "Now, if you'll all just follow me and Kinch…"

Anger flashed in Brown's eyes. "Are you trying to disobey an order from a superior officer, Corporal? In case you hadn't noticed, I _am_ a Lieutenant, and I'm in charge. You'll do what I tell you!"

"And we already told you our orders come from a Colonel, and he outranks _you_… Sir." Newkirk retorted.

Brown glared at Newkirk and said in a low, threatening voice, "But he's not here right now, and I am; so that puts _me_ in charge. You got that, Corporal?"

"Oh, that's it!" Newkirk shouted, "Come on, Kinch, let's get out of 'ere. If these blokes want to end up back in Stalag four, I say let 'em!" He grabbed Kinch's arm and turned him around; pulling him along as he started back through the woods the way they came.

_Click._

Both men heard it at the same time; the sound of a safety catch being released on a gun. They stopped in their tracks as the voice of the lieutenant reached them in the still darkness.

"That's far enough."

Newkirk and Kinch turned around slowly, finding themselves facing the business end of a pistol that Lieutenant Brown was aiming steadily at them.

"You two aren't going anywhere," Brown explained, "Not until we've taken care of a little business."

Newkirk exchanged a glance with Kinch, both of them wishing they'd gotten out of there when they could. Then they looked back at Brown, wondering with trepidation what he had in mind.

"You got any weapons on you?" Brown asked.

The men from Stalag thirteen just stared at him.

"All right, have it your way." Brown glanced at Thompson and Aikens. "Search them!" he ordered.

Thompson moved up and stood over them threateningly, while Aikens began to frisk them. "Sorry about this," the corporal muttered under his breath as he found first the gun tucked away in the belt on the back of Newkirk's pants, and then Kinch's gun stuck in the same place behind him. He handed both weapons to Thompson, who smiled wide and held them up in front of Brown.

"You were right, Lieutenant, they _were_ carrying guns," Thompson said.

Brown smiled back. "I thought so. Okay, Thompson, you keep one," he said, then looked back at the other sergeant and waved him over. "Rodriguez, you take the other."

Thompson handed one of the guns off to Rodriguez, after which both men held them at the ready; keeping their aim directed at the two new 'prisoners'.

Brown returned his gaze to Kinch and Newkirk. "Now, we've got something to do, and you're going to help us, whether you like it or not. If you cooperate, it will go a lot faster, and then you can go back to wherever it is you came from, got it?"

"I don't understand, sir," Kinch said, looking at him with confusion, "Don't you want to get out of Germany?"

"Of course I do! We all do!" Brown swept his hand around in a semi-circle to indicate the rest of his men. "We're just taking a different route, that's all." He looked at Rodriguez. "You can lead the way, Sergeant."

"Yes, sir," Rodriguez said, and walked up to the front of the line, sticking the gun he was carrying into his belt along the way.

"Thompson, you keep them covered," Brown told his other sergeant.

"No problem, Lieutenant," Thompson replied eagerly, keeping his gun trained on Kinch and Newkirk.

"And Aikens, you can bring up the rear," Brown informed the corporal. "All right, let's move," he said, then he turned and motioned for Rodriguez to get going, and the party headed out.

* * * * * * * *

"Hey, LeBeau, what time is it?" Carter asked as he walked out of his lab and into the main tunnel area.

The two men had gone below after lights out; neither one wanting to sleep until their friends made it back safely. Carter had been cleaning up some things in the work space that had been delegated to him for creating all the interesting explosives that they used for the sabotage part of their operation, and LeBeau was keeping himself busy making repairs to a couple of the German uniforms that they occasionally wore on missions.

LeBeau glanced at his watch in annoyance. "Carter, it is fifteen minutes after the last time you asked me!"

If Carter noticed LeBeau's irritation, he ignored it. "They should have been back by now," he muttered, more to himself.

"I'm sure Kinch and Newkirk are fine," LeBeau said, trying to reassure him, even though he was becoming a little worried, himself. The two men were already an hour past due.

Just then the false-bottom bunk opened above them, and Hogan climbed down. "Aren't those two back yet?" he asked as his feet hit the floor of the tunnel.

"No, sir," Carter replied, "And they should have been back by now." He couldn't help repeating his concern to Hogan. "You don't think anything happened to them, do you, Colonel?"

Hogan saw the worry on Carter's face. "Oh, I'm sure they're fine," he said, unknowingly echoing what LeBeau had just told him, "I'll bet those guys that escaped from Stalag four just took a little longer to find the rendezvous point, that's all."

"You think so?" Carter asked, his voice filling with hope.

Hogan smiled reassuringly, "I'd bet on it." Then he glanced between LeBeau and Carter. "Say, why don't you fellas go on up and get some sleep? I'll stay down here and wait for Kinch and Newkirk to get back."

"If it's all the same to you, sir, I'd rather wait down here with you." Carter replied.

"Me, too, mon Colonel."

Hogan certainly couldn't blame them for their loyalty. "Okay, I guess we can all stay down here for now. I'm sure Newkirk and Kinch won't mind having a welcoming committee here to greet them when they get back," he said, grinning. Then his expression grew serious. "Besides, I want to meet this officer, and find out why it took him so long to get himself and his men where they were supposed to be."

"Yeah, how hard is it to follow simple directions that the Underground gave them, you know? I mean, they shouldn't have had any trouble; there are plenty of guys who've met us there before, and they found it right away…"

"I know, Carter," Hogan interrupted, "That's why I'm going to have a little talk with the officer when they get back."

"Oh, yeah, good idea, Colonel," Carter replied, sounding a little flustered.

Hogan reached up and plunked his hand down on Carter's shoulder. "Don't worry, I'm sure everything's fine," he stated, at this point trying to reassure himself as well as the sergeant. It did seem strange to him that Kinch and Newkirk hadn't returned by now, but he wasn't going to assume the worst; at least, not yet. But if it got to be too much longer, he knew he'd have to send a few men out to look for them. _You two are giving me gray hair! _He thought to himself. _You guys better get back here, and soon. _ He patted Carter's shoulder, and then removed his hand and started to pace the floor in front of the table that held the radio equipment; it was the only thing he _could_ do, for now.


	3. True colors

Kinch and Newkirk trod carefully along the forest floor, both of them mindful of the gun being aimed at them by the ever-watchful Sergeant Thompson, who kept just behind and to the right of the two men. Corporal Aikens walked a little further back and to their left, while Lieutenant Brown, who was directly ahead, would occasionally glance back in their direction, keeping tabs on them and making sure his men had everything under control.

They went along that way for about twenty minutes, when Sergeant Rodriguez, who was at the head of the line, suddenly stopped and held up his hand, indicating for the rest of them to stop, also.

The group came to a halt. While Rodriguez walked back to Brown to confer with him, Newkirk and Kinch exchanged glances with each other, trying to determine if they had a shot at escaping. But when Thompson inched closer to them and growled, "You two better not try anything," their hopes were dashed for the time being.

After a minute or so, Rodriguez headed out again, and Brown motioned for them to follow quietly. They crept forward several dozen yards, until they reached the edge of a clearing that stretched quite a distance out in front of them. Roughly fifty yards ahead there was a farmhouse, its outline starkly visible in the generous moonlight. It was obviously occupied, judging by the smoke emanating from the chimney, and the light coming from the windows; visible even through the drawn curtains. In front of the house was a driveway of sorts; a wide gravel path that connected to a dirt road which led beyond the house and through a field, angling off toward the nearest main road in the area. Presently there was a car parked on the gravel path, which further indicated that someone was home.

"Good work, Rodriguez," Brown said, clapping his hand on the sergeant's shoulder. Then he turned to address the rest of the men. "Okay, here's what we'll do. We'll go over to the house and knock on the door, and as soon as someone answers it, we'll force our way inside…"

"Wait a minute," Aikens cut in, "Why do we need to go in the house? You said we were just going to be stealing a car."

"Blimey, what 'ave we got ourselves into this time?" Newkirk muttered under his breath; just loud enough for Kinch to hear, who was standing next to him.

"Nothing good, from the looks of it," Kinch whispered back.

Brown looked impatiently at Aikens. "We _are_ going to steal a car, but we need the keys, don't we?" he said, his tone making it sound like he was explaining something to a 10-year-old. "So, since they're probably in the house, we'll have to go inside and get them. Besides, I bet they got some food in there; I'm starving."

"So am I, sir," Thompson said, nodding at Brown.

"Yeah, me, too," Rodriguez added.

Brown smiled. "All right, let's go."

Newkirk's jaw dropped. "What?" he exclaimed incredulously, "You can't be serious! 'Ave you all gone mad? You can't just waltz up to some Kraut's house and demand the keys to 'is bloomin' car! You want to get us all caught?"

Brown swiftly closed the distance between him and Newkirk. "I have had enough of your back talk!" he shouted into Newkirk's face, "You're going to do what I tell you!"

Newkirk's eyes narrowed, and he tightened his hands into fists. "Or, what?" he challenged.

At that moment Kinch noticed two things; Thompson and Rodriguez both raising their guns and taking dead aim at Newkirk, and Newkirk's arm twitching, which he knew meant that the Englishman was about to throw a punch. He quickly reached over and grabbed his friend, yanking him hard enough to cause him to take a step back.

"Newkirk, I think you better calm down," Kinch said, making it sound more like an order than a suggestion.

Newkirk swung his head to look at Kinch, his eyes filled with anger at being interrupted. "What are you doin'?" he asked harshly as he tried to pull his arm out of Kinch's grasp.

"Saving you from yourself," Kinch replied calmly, then he glanced at Thompson and Rodriguez and back to Newkirk, signaling to him to follow his gaze.

Newkirk did, and the anger on his face was quickly replaced by fear. He stopped struggling and looked at Kinch, nodding almost imperceptibly to indicate to the sergeant that he understood.

Kinch nodded back, and released Newkirk's arm. Then he turned to Brown and said, "Sir, Newkirk has a point. A lot of the farmers around here are known for taking Allied soldiers prisoner and turning them over to the German authorities. If we let this farmer know we're here, we could all end up in a lot of trouble."

"You forget, Sergeant Kinchloe, that we have guns," Brown replied.

"Yes, sir, but most of these farmers have guns, too."

"But we have more." Brown was not going to be dissuaded.

"Oh, why are you wasting your time on these two, anyway, Lieutenant?" Thompson interjected, "Let's just get rid of them and go!"

"Now, now, Thompson, we can't do that. You know as well as I do that we need someone who speaks German." Brown looked at Newkirk. "It's a good thing you do, Corporal, or I wouldn't have any reason to keep you around, would I?" He smiled at him; a smug expression plastered on his face.

Newkirk just glared at him.

"Yeah, all right," Thompson acquiesced, "But what about his friend, there?"

Brown looked over at Thompson. "Don't you understand anything?" he replied irritably, "If we hurt Sergeant Kinchloe, Newkirk's not gonna cooperate." Then he looked back at Newkirk. "Right?"

"If you lay one hand on me mate Kinch, I'll…"

"See?" Brown stated in an 'I told you so' voice, glancing at Thompson, then he brought his gaze back to Newkirk. "All right, now that we understand each other, here's the deal. As long as you cooperate, your sergeant friend will be fine. But if you give me any trouble…" he glanced at his own two sergeants, who were still aiming their guns in Newkirk and Kinch's direction, "Well, I can't be responsible for what they decide to do, now, can I?" Then he looked at Kinch and added, "Nothing personal, Sergeant."

Although Brown couldn't see it, Kinch was fuming. His anger was kindled from the moment the lieutenant and his cohorts had refused to follow him and Newkirk back to safety, and had been escalating ever since. He'd been trying to remain calm, knowing that an emotional outburst would only make things worse – it wasn't his way, in any case – but now, not only was Brown's treatment of Newkirk enough to infuriate him, the officer was threatening to shoot _him_ if Newkirk didn't do what he was told!

But Kinch wasn't about to let his emotions get the best of him. He knew he needed to keep a cool head, if for no other reason than to counteract Newkirk's temper. He gazed impassively at Brown and asked, "Why do you need someone who speaks German, sir?" Then he thought for a second and added, "And why are you planning on stealing a car? You don't need it to get out of Germany; all you have to do is come with us," he nodded at Newkirk, "We can get you out of here."

Brown smiled. "You know, Sergeant, I like you. Come to think of it, I wish _you_ were the one who spoke German; then I wouldn't have to rely on your Limey friend, there," he absently waved his hand at Newkirk, "But since he says he knows the language, I have no choice… I'll have to use _him_." He snorted in disgust, then lowered his voice conspiratorially, "So, you wanna know why we're stealing a car, do you? Well, let's just say we have our reasons, and leave it at that for now." He winked at Kinch, then looked at his men and stated in an authoritative voice, "Let's go."

The group headed out; Thompson and Rodriguez keeping their guns pointed at Newkirk and Kinch. They walked toward the house, making as little noise as possible. As they approached the door, Brown motioned to his men to stand ready while he went up and knocked. Then he reached out and grabbed Newkirk by the arm and dragged him along, shooting a warning glance at him to behave. When they got to the door, Brown pulled his gun out from where he'd tucked it into his belt, and, holding it at the ready, raised his other hand and banged on the door loudly several times, then waited for an answer.

He didn't have to wait long. The door opened a crack, and an older gentleman peeked out at them. "Wer ist da?" he said, then let out a gasp when he saw the two men in Allied uniforms standing on his doorstep. He started to shut the door, but Brown was too quick for him. The Lieutenant grabbed the knob and slammed his shoulder against the door, causing it to fly open, nearly knocking the German man down.

"Tell him to back up," Brown barked at Newkirk while pointing his gun at the now-terrified German, "But to stay where I can see him."

Newkirk did as he was told. Brown glanced back at the rest of the men and waved them over. They walked up and followed Brown and Newkirk into the house; Thompson and Rodriguez gripping their guns tightly as their eyes darted warily back and forth.

Just then they heard the voice of a woman approaching the front room where they were all clustered. "Otto," she called out, sounding concerned, "Was ist los?" When the woman entered the room and saw the Allied soldiers, she let out a mingled cry of surprise and fear. Her fear quickly escalated to terror as the men who were carrying guns reflexively aimed them in her direction.

"Nein! Nein!" The German man shouted, hurrying quickly to the woman's side and throwing his arms around her protectively.

The woman appeared to be about the same age as the man, late fifties at a guess, and it wasn't hard to figure out that she was Otto's wife. She wrapped her arms around Otto tightly, clinging to him for dear life, and buried her face in his shoulder.

"There now, you 'appy?" Newkirk shot out angrily as he raised his hand and gestured to the couple, "You clods 'ave managed to scare the ruddy daylights out of these poor folks, 'ere. So, why don't you just get the bloody keys, and we can all be on our way?"

Brown glared at him. "Why don't you just shut up, and do what I tell you?"

Newkirk stared back angrily.

"Now, ask them if there's anyone else in the house," Brown ordered, "And tell that woman to make us some dinner. I'm not leaving until we get something to eat."

Newkirk hesitated a moment; fighting to control his anger. At last he turned to the couple and translated Brown's words as gently as he could, not wanting to frighten the couple even further.

Otto answered Newkirk, and then the woman let go of her husband and, after a fearful glance around the room, turned and headed off for the kitchen.

"That's better," Brown said. "So, what did he say?"

"He said there's no one else 'ere," Newkirk replied tersely. "He also said that 'is wife, Gretchen, will fix you somethin' to eat." He glared at Brown, "And then we're leavin'… Right?"

"Of course!" Brown smiled, "As soon as we get something to eat." He looked over at his two sergeants. "Thompson, why don't you go keep an eye on our cook, and Rodriguez, go check out the rest of the house."

As the sergeants left the room, Kinch glanced at Otto, and something in the German man's expression worried him. He looked back at Brown and said, "I don't think you need to do that, sir. He already told you there's no one else here."

"Haven't you learned anything about war, Sergeant Kinchloe?" Brown replied, "Never trust the enemy."

"Well, sir, I wouldn't consider a farmer and his wife much of a threat,"

"You said it yourself; a lot of them have guns."

"Yeah, to protect themselves from ruddy sods like you!" Newkirk retorted.

Brown looked at Newkirk, his eyes narrowing. "I thought I told you to shut up!" he snapped. Then a cruel smile formed on his face, and he pointed his gun in Kinch's direction. "Maybe I'm gonna have to teach you a lesson, after all."

Both Newkirk and Kinch's eyes widened with fear. "No!" Newkirk shouted, "Leave 'im alone! I… I'll be quiet."

"You'll be quiet…what?"

"I'll be quiet… Sir."

Brown's smile grew bigger. "There, now, see how easy that was?"

The sound of footsteps approaching caught their attention, and all heads turned as Rodriguez entered the room. When they saw what he had with him, their eyes grew wide with surprise. Rodriguez was holding a pretty young woman by the arm, mid-twenties, wearing a plain beige dress; her brown hair swept up in a simple bun on her head. She was clearly terrified, and when she spotted the farmer, she instantly cried out, "Otto!" and tried to pull her arm out of the sergeant's grasp.

"Odette!" Otto called out, his voice mirroring her fear. He took a step toward her, but stopped when he saw Rodriguez raise his gun.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" Brown raked his gaze over the woman rudely, staring unabashedly at the front of her dress; in particular the amply filled-out area near the top. Then he looked at Rodriguez and asked, "Where did you find her?"

"She was hiding in the bedroom at the end of the hall," Rodriguez answered.

"I see," Brown said. He noticed that she was still trying to escape from Rodriguez, and nodded at him to let her go.

Rodriguez did, and the woman ran over to Otto, who put his arms around her protectively.

Brown looked at Otto. "So, you lied to us, didn't you? There _was_ someone else here. Who is she?" He asked, glancing at the woman. Then his face filled with anger and he shouted, "Answer me!"

Otto shrank back a little, tightening his protective hold around the woman.

"He doesn't understand you, sir," Newkirk stated, trying to hold his temper.

"Then why don't you tell him what I said?" Brown replied patronizingly.

Newkirk grit his teeth for a moment, and then turned to Otto and conversed with him briefly. When they finished, he looked at Brown. "This 'ere is Odette," he said, gesturing to the woman, "She's Otto's daughter-in-law. His son's servin' in the German Army; and she's stayin' with them until he comes back."

"Why was she hiding?"

"Why do you think?" Newkirk huffed, sounding thoroughly exasperated. "He's just tryin' to protect her. Can't say as I blame 'im… Sir."

Just then Thompson returned from the kitchen, carrying several bottles of wine. He held one up and said excitedly, "Hey, Lieutenant, look what I found!"

Brown's eyes lit up. "Good job, Thompson." Then he glanced over at Odette and smiled wide. "Looks like we're gonna have a real party, now!"

* * * * * * * *

Hogan stopped pacing and looked at his watch. It was close to two hours now that Newkirk and Kinch were overdue. He let out a sigh of frustration and looked over at LeBeau, who was sitting on the bench against the wall of the tunnel, still working on one of their German uniforms.

"LeBeau?" Hogan said to get the Frenchman's attention.

LeBeau looked up from his sewing. "Oui, mon Colonel?"

"I think you and Carter better go out and see if you can find Newkirk and Kinch."

LeBeau jumped up from the bench, nearly dropping the uniform. "Yes, sir!" he replied excitedly; relieved to be doing something at last. "I was hoping you were going to say that, Colonel."

Hogan walked over to the entrance leading to the lab. "Carter?" he called out.

Carter appeared almost immediately in front of him. "Yes, Colonel?" he said.

"I'm sending you and LeBeau out to look for Kinch and Newkirk. They should have been back by now."

Carter instantly became animated. "Well, if you ask me, it's about time! Uh, sir."

Hogan couldn't help grinning at him. "Yes, it is," he agreed, then his expression grew serious. He looked at both of them and said, "You know where the rendezvous point is; I'd start there. If they're not there, see if you can find any trace of where they went."

"Oui, Colonel," LeBeau replied.

"Oh, and I want you both back here in two hours, whether you find them or not," Hogan added.

"But, sir," Carter began to protest.

"No 'Buts', Carter… Two hours. I don't need to lose you guys, too."

"Yes, sir." Carter said, looking a little deflated.

"Hey, don't worry, mon ami, we'll find them!" LeBeau stated encouragingly, nudging Carter with his elbow.

Carter sighed. "I hope you're right, Louis."

"Of course I'm right. I'm always right, aren't I?"

Hogan found himself wishing LeBeau was right, too. "All right, fellas, you better get going," he told them. "And while you're gone, I'll contact the Underground, and see if they've heard anything. Maybe I can get them to do a little snooping around on their own."

"Yes, sir," they both answered. As they headed for the tunnel which led to the emergency exit, LeBeau called out, "Don't worry, Colonel, I just know we'll find them!"

_I hope so, LeBeau, _Hogan thought to himself, _I really hope so._


	4. A little help, a lot more trouble

Newkirk and Kinch were leaning up against the wall of the kitchen, watching as Lt. Brown, Sgt. Thompson and Sgt. Rodriguez wolfed down the meal prepared for them by Gretchen. The three men sat around the table laughing, joking, stuffing their faces; and going through the wine at an alarming rate. Newkirk exchanged a knowing glance with Kinch; they both knew where this was headed. They gave a slight nod to each other, and began to inch their way toward the doorway as quickly and quietly as possible.

They slipped out of the kitchen, unnoticed by the raucous group of Americans, and headed for the front room. When they got there, they saw Otto, his wife Gretchen, and their daughter-in-law Odette huddled together on the sofa along the side wall. Corporal Aikens was seated in a chair directly opposite them, and was watching them closely; the gun that Rodriguez had passed to him lying on his lap.

Aikens looked up when they entered, and, startled to see them, grabbed the gun and pointed it in their direction. "What are you guys doing in here?" he asked nervously, "I thought the lieutenant wanted you in the kitchen where he could keep an eye on you."

"We got bored," Kinch stated nonchalantly.

"Yeah," Newkirk said, "We thought you could use a bit o' company out 'ere." He walked up and plopped down in the chair next to Aikens, keeping an alert eye on the gun in his hand. "So, 'ow come those other blokes didn't include you in their little party?" he asked the corporal.

"Well, somebody had to watch these folks," Aikens answered, "You know, so they don't try anything."

"They look pretty harmless to me," Kinch said, "As a matter of fact," he added, staring hard at the corporal, "So do you, Aikens. Tell me, why are you hanging around with those other guys, anyway?"

"It's none of your business!" Aikens exclaimed. Then he dropped his gaze and muttered, "I have my reasons."

"Well, whatever those reasons are, mate, I 'ope they're bloody good enough to let yourself get into all this trouble."

Aikens glanced at Newkirk. "_I'm_ not the one in trouble, here," he replied defensively, "_You_ two are." His eyes moved quickly back and forth between Newkirk and Kinch.

"_You're_ the one holding a gun on a defenseless farmer and his family," Kinch said calmly. He paused for a moment, watching a tiny spark of guilt appear in the corporal's eyes as his words hit home; then he plunged ahead. "Not to mention being an accessory to assault."

Aikens' eyes grew wide. "What are you talking about? The lieutenant hasn't assaulted anyone, and neither has Thompson or Rodriguez."

"Not yet, but they're ruddy goin' to," Newkirk stated matter-of-factly.

Aikens scowled at him. "How could you possibly know that?" he huffed.

"You know what those three guys are doing, don't you? They're in the kitchen right now, drinking lots of wine," Kinch informed him. Then he leaned in slightly, his voice taking on a serious tone. "And what do you think they're gonna want to do when they get good and drunk?" He glanced across the room to Odette.

Aikens followed his gaze, and when his eyes met the young woman's, he could see the fear radiating out from them. He looked back at Kinch, his expression full of forced denial. "They wouldn't… I mean, we just came in here to get the keys to the car!"

"Blimey, mate, you saw the way Brown was lookin' at her, didn't you?" Newkirk replied, as though he were stating the obvious, "You really think he and those two ruddy sods with 'im are just goin' to waltz out of 'ere without 'avin' a go at her?"

Aikens' eyes began to widen as he realized that the Englander was probably right. His suspicions were further confirmed when he looked at Kinch, and saw him nod slightly in agreement. He glanced from one man to the other; wishing, not for the first time, that he'd never gotten involved with Lieutenant Brown, and knowing that he wanted no part in helping him or his sergeants carry out such a terrible act. But his courage was fleeting, and when he opened his mouth, he heard himself say, "Well, even if you're right, there's nothing _I_ can do about it."

"How do you know unless you try?" Kinch countered.

"Are you serious?" Aikens looked at Kinch incredulously, "Do you know what the Lieutenant would do to me?"

"Do you know what he's going to do to Odette?" Kinch shot back.

Aikens once again glanced over at Odette and her in-laws. They looked so scared and helpless; obviously fearing for their very lives. He knew they didn't deserve what was happening to them, and he could well imagine how he would feel in their place. At last he let out a huge sigh and turned back to Kinch. "All right, what do you want me to do?"

* * * * * * * *

LeBeau and Carter were picking their way carefully through the forest, making good time in the clear, moonlit night. They were just over halfway to the rendezvous point when LeBeau heard Carter stumble behind him and let out a small cry of surprise.

LeBeau stopped and quickly whirled around. "Carter, what's wrong?" he asked with concern.

"Oh, nothing, really," Carter answered somewhat sadly, staring at something on the ground just to the right of where he'd tripped. "I just noticed, well, that," he said, pointing to what had caught his attention.

LeBeau looked down and saw what had Carter so distressed. There on the ground lay a small, shapeless mass covered with fur. Upon closer inspection, he discovered it was the remains of a freshly killed rabbit; just a flat, lifeless pelt, tinged with red, attached to a little furry head with long ears and lifeless eyes. He looked up at Carter, and, knowing how the American sergeant felt about animals, he decided to be sympathetic. "I'm sure it didn't suffer," he said quietly.

"I hope not," Carter replied. He sniffed twice, and then sighed and looked at LeBeau determinedly. "Let's go."

The two men once again plodded through the woods, headed in the direction of the rendezvous area. When they finally reached it, they found exactly what they'd expected to find; no one was there. They searched the area, looking for clues, when at last Carter piped up, "It looks like someone went through here."

LeBeau studied the trampled leaves and partial footprints that Carter had found, and instantly agreed. "I think you're right, Carter," he agreed. Then he looked up at him and stated, "It looks like they went south. Let's go."

They followed the path of broken twigs and obvious boot prints on the forest floor, both of them hoping that their friends would be at the other end of the trail. At last they reached a clearing, and, looking out, they saw a farmhouse nearby; with open fields beyond it, reaching far into the distance. The trail seemed to stop there, and LeBeau looked at Carter with frustration.

"They're not here," LeBeau stated, letting out a sigh.

"Well, maybe the people in there know where they are," Carter said, pointing to the farmhouse.

LeBeau rolled his eyes. "Carter, we can't just knock on some German's door, and ask him if he's seen our Allied friends… He'd probably shoot us!"

Carter thought about it for a moment. "Yeah, I guess that wouldn't be a good idea," he said at last. "But, what else can we do?"

LeBeau looked at his watch. "We can go back to camp and tell the colonel we couldn't find them," he said. "We were supposed to be back in two hours, anyway. If we leave now, we should just make it."

"But, we haven't found them yet!" Carter replied, his voice pleading.

"I know," LeBeau answered, "But if we're not back when the colonel expects us to be, well…"

Carter nodded. "You're right, Louis," he acquiesced. "We better get back to camp, and tell the colonel that we didn't find them."

LeBeau saw the despair on Carter's face, and clapped him on his arm. "Hey, don't worry, mon ami, we'll find them! I bet the colonel will come up with a plan that will lead us to them in no time!"

Carter looked at LeBeau. "You really think so?" he asked, his expression filled with hope.

"I know so!" LeBeau replied confidently. He smiled at Carter, and then turned and headed back to Stalag thirteen. As he heard Carter's footsteps fall into line behind him, he willed himself to believe that he was right.

* * * * * * * *

Aikens stared up at Kinch, waiting for him to reply to his question, but it was Newkirk who spoke up first.

"Well, first thing you can do, mate," Newkirk said, "Is let me talk to Otto, there, so's I can let 'im know we're tryin' to 'elp."

Aikens nodded. "Okay, but make it quick."

Newkirk got up and walked over to the little group seated on the sofa, and began to converse with them, keeping his voice low. After a couple of minutes, he smiled and nodded at them, and returned to his chair.

"Well?" Aikens asked.

"Well, they've got a room down in the cellar, what's got a big, thick door in front of it, and it locks from the inside. I'll sneak 'em down there, and they can lock themselves in until we can get those ruddy 'faced sods out of 'ere."

"Sounds like a good plan to me," Kinch said.

"I don't know," Aikens replied, beginning to have second thoughts, "I mean, the Lieutenant's going to blame me…"

"Well," Kinch raised his hand and began to stroke his chin as he thought out loud, "I could take your gun, and lock you in one of the bedrooms. I'll just tell the Lieutenant that I overpowered you."

"You think he'd believe that?" Aikens asked.

Kinch stood up straight and puffed out his chest. "What do _you_ think?"

Aikens smiled and nodded. "I think he'll believe that!"

"All right, we better work fast." Kinch said, "No telling when those guys are going to realize we slipped out, and come looking for us."

Newkirk and Aikens rose from their chairs. Newkirk motioned to Otto and his family to do the same, and then he followed them as they walked quickly to the cellar door. They climbed down the steps and hurried through the small, musty, main cellar; arriving at the door on the far wall. Otto reached out, grabbed the handle and pulled hard. The door opened, groaning from disuse, and Newkirk could see that it was indeed as solid and thick as a bank vault door.

The trio rushed inside, and Newkirk told them to lock the door, and not to open it until he and Kinch got rid of the Lieutenant and his sergeants. Otto thanked him profusely; knowing that the Englander and his friend were doing this, in part, to protect his daughter-in-law. Then they shut the door and bolted it from the inside, and Newkirk turned and headed up the stairs.

* * * * * * * *

Brown and his cohorts were still sitting at the table in the kitchen, their conversation becoming more heated in direct proportion to the amount of wine they were consuming. The topic had shifted to complaining about everything and anything that had ever bothered each of them, and currently, the Lieutenant had the floor.

"…And another thing I can't stand; those lousy Brits!" Brown announced to his two sergeants, leaning forward and propping his elbows on the table, "They think they're so damn superior. You know, when I was in London, they used to…"

"Hey," Thompson cut in, after glancing around the kitchen, "Where's that Brit we brought here with us?"

"Yeah," Rodriguez remarked, "And that Sergeant friend of his?"

"Whaddaya mean?" Brown drawled, "They're standing over by the wall…" He glanced at the spot where Newkirk and Kinch were supposed to be, and saw that they were gone. "Hey, where'd they go?"

The three men rose from the table and started to head toward the front room. As they got to the hall, the door to the cellar opened, and Newkirk walked out.

Brown stared at him, confused. "What were you doing down there?" he asked loudly.

Newkirk looked up and smiled at Brown. "It's none of your ruddy business, now, is it?" he replied.

"I'll decide what's my business!" Brown yelled. Then he happened to glance into the front room, and noticed it was empty. "Hey, where's Corporal Aikens?" he leaned in farther, "And where's that German, and that daughter of his?"

"Someplace you'll never get your bloody 'ands on her!" Newkirk retorted, a smug look on his face.

Brown glared at Newkirk, his expression darkening. "Thompson, Rodriguez," he said, still staring at Newkirk, "Go down to the cellar and see if you can find them."

The two sergeants did as they were told, and as soon as they disappeared behind the cellar door, Brown moved swiftly in front of Newkirk and grabbed the front of his uniform jacket. Before Newkirk could react, the lieutenant pulled him forward just a little, to get him off balance, and then pushed him, hard, slamming him up against the wall. He pulled the gun out of his belt and jabbed it into Newkirk's gut, at the same time leaning in until his face was mere inches from the corporal's.

"I had plans for that girl," Brown hissed, "It's been a long time, you know?"

Newkirk just stared at him, too scared at the moment to say anything.

Brown stared back, angrily. Then he smiled cruelly, and his eyes raked slowly down Newkirk's body, and back up to his face. "You know what, Limey? Maybe I should make you take her place…"

Kinch, who had just rounded the corner from escorting Aikens to the bedroom at the far end of the hall, not only saw Brown pressing Newkirk against the wall, his gun jammed into the Englishman's abdomen, but heard the lieutenant's latest remark. His anger bubbled over and his control finally snapped, causing his instinct to take over. He strode up to Brown, grabbed him by the arm, yanked him off of Newkirk and sent him flying halfway across the room.

"That's enough!" Kinch yelled, his voice thundering through the house, reverberating off the walls like a shockwave.

Both Newkirk and Brown stared at him in complete shock. Just then the door to the cellar opened, and Rodriguez leaped out, heading straight for Kinch. The shorter sergeant tried to throw a couple of punches, but he was no match for the former boxer, and Kinch gave him a shove, pushing him into the wall, where he hit his head and slumped to the floor, unconscious.

When Brown saw Rodriguez initially start grappling with Kinch, he brought up his gun and aimed it at the black sergeant, but Newkirk quickly stepped in front of him and, balling his hand into a tight fist, hauled off and punched the lieutenant with all his might. Brown fell to the floor, letting the gun fall out of his hand as he hit. The weapon went sliding, just out of his reach.

Newkirk saw the gun go flying, and started to go after it. But Brown grabbed his ankle, causing him to lose his balance and fall down right in front of him. Newkirk was closer to the gun, and he reached forward to grab it, but Brown quickly crawled up and jumped on top of his back, stretching his own arm toward the weapon while trying to pull Newkirk's arm back.

After Kinch had taken care of Rodriguez, he looked over and saw Newkirk and Brown struggling for the gun. Just then he remembered that he had Aikens' gun tucked in his belt. He started to reach for it, when suddenly Thompson appeared from the cellar and grabbed him, whirling him around while raising his fist, preparing to strike him.

Kinch, caught off-guard, instinctively threw up his arms, effectively blocking Thompson's first blow. But Thompson was the same size as Kinch, and was not about to be dissuaded. He continued to throw punches, his fists occasionally hitting their mark, while Kinch fought back, his own fists having more luck.

As Kinch and Thompson continued to duke it out, Newkirk and Brown were still vying for possession of Brown's gun. The Lieutenant raised his arm and brought his elbow down hard right between Newkirk's shoulder blades. Newkirk let out a small cry, and while he was distracted by the sudden pain, Brown took the advantage. He pushed himself off of Newkirk, extending his hand out at the same time, and was able to grab hold of the gun.

Newkirk reached over and latched onto Brown's arm, pulling it toward him so he could take the gun away from him. Brown responded by trying to yank his one arm out of Newkirk's grasp while attempting to push him away with the other. As they struggled, the gun inadvertently went off. The shot went wide; the bullet flying harmlessly through the air, embedding itself in the wall near the cellar door.

Newkirk and Brown were still lying on the floor, facing each other at this point. Again Newkirk dug his fingers into Brown's arm, desperate to get the gun away from him. But Brown's anger welled up in him anew, and with a burst of energy, he raised his leg and kneed Newkirk in the abdomen as hard as he could.

Newkirk exhaled forcibly, an audible, 'Oomph', escaping his lips. He relaxed his grip just enough for Brown to pull his arm free. The lieutenant quickly rolled away from Newkirk and got up on his knees, turning his attention to the two sergeants who were still fighting. Kinch appeared to have the upper hand, and was just about to deliver a knock-out blow, when Brown raised his gun.

"No!" Newkirk yelled, scrambling to get to Brown. But before he could reach him, the Lieutenant took aim at Kinch and fired.

* * *

A/N: I know; I'm a cliffhanger junkie!


	5. Down, but not out

"_No!" Newkirk yelled, scrambling to get to Brown. But before he could reach him, the Lieutenant took aim at Kinch and fired. _

* * * * * * * *

Kinch was gripping the front of Thompson's jacket tightly, and had just drawn back his right arm in preparation to knock the sergeant out, when Lt. Brown fired the gun. The bullet whizzed through the air, entering the side of Kinch's right upper arm. It made a small, burning tunnel through the muscle and tissue and came out the other side, then hit the far wall and lodged itself there.

Kinch let out a cry, more of surprise than pain, and stumbled backwards, dropping his injured right arm and letting go of Thompson's jacket. He tripped over Rodriguez, who was still lying on the floor, and lost his balance, falling and striking his head on a small table nearby. By the time he landed on the floor, he was unconscious.

Newkirk, who had been looking at Brown when he fired, quickly swung his head in Kinch's direction. By the time his gaze found him, the tall sergeant was already in mid-fall. Newkirk saw him hit his head on the table and go down, and instantly he was on his feet, running over to his wounded friend.

"Kinch!" Newkirk called out as he knelt down next to him, "Kinch, mate… You all right?" He reached up and tapped him lightly on the cheek. "C'mon, Kinch, open your eyes… Say somethin'!" When Kinch didn't respond, Newkirk's eyes swept over him, frantically looking for any sign of a gunshot wound. His gaze came to rest on Kinch's upper right arm, which now had a pool of blood slowly spreading out from under it. He reached for Kinch's jacket and began to remove it so he could check the extent of the damage.

While Newkirk was attempting to examine Kinch's injury, Brown got to his feet and walked over to Thompson. He looked at him, his eyes filled with rage, and glanced over to Newkirk and back; knowing that Thompson would understand what he wanted him to do. Thompson nodded, then walked over and, reaching down, grabbed the back of Newkirk's uniform and pulled, hauling him to his feet.

Newkirk immediately tried to wriggle out of his grasp, shouting, "No! Get your bloody 'ands off me! I 'ave to help me mate, Kinch!" But Thompson just grabbed his arms; then whirled him around until he was facing Brown.

Brown glared at Newkirk for a moment while Thompson stood behind the Englishman, tightening his grip on the corporal's arms. "You… You hit me!" Brown spat out at last, "You struck a superior officer!"

Newkirk scowled in disgust. "I got plenty of names for you, chum, and 'superior' ain't one o' them!"

"Oh, I'm gonna shut that smart mouth of yours!" Brown, his hands already tightened into fists, drew his arm back and punched Newkirk in the face. "_That's_ for hitting me!" he yelled; then he thrust his other fist into Newkirk's gut. "And _that's_ for trying to take my gun!" He brought his first hand back and struck the Englishman in the stomach, "And _that's_ for disobeying orders!" Then he socked Newkirk in the face again. "And _that's_ just because I don't like you!"

Newkirk weathered the blows as best he could, but after a few more punches to his head, he started to feel like he was going to pass out. Brown must have noticed, because he lowered his arms and took a step back. "_Now_ who's superior?" he snorted smugly. He nodded at Thompson, and the sergeant let go of Newkirk, watching as the Englishman staggered a little before falling down and landing on his rear.

"Now, where did Aikens get off to?" Brown asked Thompson.

Thompson shrugged his shoulders. "Beats me, sir. He wasn't in the cellar."

"C'mon, let's find him," Brown said as he started to head down the hall, waving at Thompson to follow.

"Just a second," Thompson replied as he walked over to where Kinch lay. He reached down and grabbed the gun that was still tucked into Kinch's belt, and stuffed it into his pocket. Then he went to rejoin Brown, and they left.

As the two men walked away, Newkirk sat there on the floor, fighting the dizziness that was threatening to overwhelm him. He had multiple bruises already forming on his face, as well as contusions to his abdomen and stomach. He shook his head, trying to clear it, when one word suddenly popped into his head… _Kinch!_ He turned around and saw that the sergeant was still lying there, unmoving. Summoning all his strength, Newkirk crawled over to him, and once again tried to get his attention.

"C'mon, Kinch, wake up, mate," he said as he reached for Kinch's jacket to finish removing it. He glanced at the dark red puddle underneath his friend's arm, and wasn't surprised to see that it had grown.

Suddenly Kinch stirred; his eyes blinking open slowly. "Oooh, my head," he groaned, and reflexively began to raise his right arm. "Aahh…" he sucked in his breath and winced as the pain from the gunshot coursed up and down his arm, reaching even to his shoulder. As he started to lower it, he felt someone grab it and lay it gently on the floor.

"Easy there, mate," Newkirk said, "You've got a nice little hole in your arm, courtesy of that bloody Lieutenant."

Kinch turned his head and squinted up at the source of the voice he'd just heard. "Newkirk, is that you?" he asked.

"Yeah, it's me," Newkirk answered, smiling at him, "And I don't mind tellin' you, I'm 'appy to see you're awake." Then his concern returned and he asked, "'Ow are you feelin'?"

"Like I got run over by a truck," Kinch muttered; then opened his eyes a little more and added, "I don't suppose you got the license number, did you?"

Newkirk grinned. "Only the name. I believe it was, 'Brown'."

Kinch's eyes widened. "Brown shot me?"

Newkirk nodded. "He was tryin' to break up the fight you were 'avin' with Thompson."

"Oh, yeah," Kinch said as the memory of what happened prior to waking up on the floor started to come back to him. As he stared up at Newkirk, he suddenly frowned. "What happened to you?" He asked, alarmed.

"Never you mind about me," Newkirk replied. Then he proceeded to finish removing Kinch's jacket from his injured arm, and studied the wound closely. "Looks like the bullet went clean through. I think the bleedin' 'as slowed down, too. I'll need to find somethin' to wrap it with, until we can get back to camp and 'ave Wilson take a look at it."

Just then they both heard footsteps approaching from the hall which led to the bedrooms. "So, you're telling me that Sergeant Kinchloe overpowered you, grabbed your gun, and then locked you in the bedroom?" Brown was saying to Aikens as they drew near the area where Newkirk and Kinch were still on the floor.

"Yes, sir," Aikens answered meekly.

Brown flashed him a look of irritation. "Well, why didn't you just shoot him before he could take your gun away?"

Aikens looked apologetically at Brown. "He, uh, took me by surprise."

"Yeah? Well, you mess up like that, again, and I'll give you a surprise of my own!" Brown replied angrily.

"Excuse me, _sir_," Newkirk said, looking up as the party returned, "I need somethin' to use as a bandage, 'ere."

Brown directed his foul temper at Newkirk. "Well, what do you want _me_ to do about it?" he retorted.

Newkirk fought to control his own temper, for Kinch's sake. "I'd like to take a look around, if you don't mind, and see if I can find somethin'… Sir."

Brown smiled. "Well, since you asked so nicely… No." He burst out laughing as he saw Newkirk's expression darken. Once he got himself under control, he said, "Tell you what; Aikens and I will escort you and your friend to the back bedroom, and see how _you_ like being locked up. Right, Aikens?" He added, swinging his gaze in Aikens' direction.

"Yes, sir," Aikens dutifully replied.

Brown looked back at Newkirk. "I'm sure you can find something in there to use."

Suddenly they all heard a low moan coming from the figure on the floor just beyond where Kinch lay.

"Rodriguez! I completely forgot about him!" Brown exclaimed, quickly striding over to the man on the floor. Kneeling down, he put his hand on Rodriguez's shoulder and gave it a gentle shake. "Hey, are you all right?"

Rodriguez groaned louder and opened his eyes. "Ow, my head," he said, almost mimicking Kinch's first words upon waking up. "What happened?"

"Don't you remember? Sergeant Kinchloe slammed you into the wall." Brown told him.

"He did?" Rodriguez looked confused for a moment; then his expression changed as it all came flooding back to him. "Oh, yeah, he did."

"C'mon, let's get you off the floor," Brown said. He helped Rodriguez to a sitting position, and then called back to his other sergeant. "Thompson, give me a hand here, will ya?"

Thompson walked over and positioned himself on the other side of Rodriguez, and together he and Brown slid their arms behind the groggy man and lifted him to his feet. Rodriguez swayed a little before getting his balance; then nodded to the two men that he could stand on his own. As soon as Brown and Thompson let go, Rodriguez's knees started to buckle. The two men reached out and caught him, supporting him as they led him into the front room and set him on the sofa. Rodriguez swung his legs up and stretched out on the sofa; letting out a small groan from the throbbing headache he now had.

"Get some rest," Brown told Rodriguez, and then, remembering something, he turned to Thompson. "Hey, did you find that family in the cellar?"

"Yeah… They locked themselves in a room down there, and won't come out."

Brown rolled his eyes. "Well, did you try to get the door open?"

"I can't; that thing's gotta be at least four inches thick!"

"Dammit!" Brown replied in frustration, "Oh, I could just kill that rotten Brit right now!"

"Better not, sir," Thompson said, "We still need him."

Brown let out a big sigh. "Yeah, I know. Okay, let's get those two into the back bedroom, and then I think I'm gonna take a little nap before we leave. You can, too, if you want; I'll leave Aikens in charge of watching our prisoners."

"Are you sure that's a good idea, sir?" Thompson asked, "I mean, after what happened earlier…"

"Don't worry," Brown reassured him, "I think I know a way to keep that from happening again."

The two men walked back to where the others were. "Okay," Brown stated, putting forth his best authoritative voice, "Let's go. C'mon, Newkirk, get your sergeant friend, Kinchloe, up on his feet so we can put you two where you can't cause anymore trouble."

Newkirk glared at Brown, but he kept his mouth shut. He turned his attention to Kinch, and said, "Think you can stand up, mate?"

"Yeah, I'm all right," Kinch answered. He started to rise, pushing himself up with his good arm, while Newkirk helped him by sliding his own arm around Kinch's back and pulling gently. Once Kinch was sitting up, he noticed that the room was spinning, and he put his hand on Newkirk's arm, signaling for him to wait a few moments. When the objects around him finally stopped tilting at an odd angle, Kinch nodded, and, with Newkirk's help, got slowly to his feet. His head was throbbing like Hogan himself was inside of it, playing those gigantic kettle drums they'd had in camp that one time. (1) And his arm wasn't faring much better.

"Can you make it?" Newkirk asked him worriedly, keeping his voice low.

"Yeah, I can make it. Don't worry, Peter," Kinch answered, wincing as his injured arm accidentally brushed up against Newkirk.

"C'mon, c'mon," Brown said impatiently, "Let's go, already!"

Newkirk frowned. "Well, maybe we could move a little faster, if one of you sods… I mean, one of your men lend us a hand."

"I'll help you," Aikens piped up, and walked over to Kinch's left side, circling his arm around the tall sergeant's back.

"Thanks," Kinch replied, putting his arm across Aikens' shoulders.

Brown looked at Aikens suspiciously, but said nothing.

Newkirk and Aikens held on to Kinch as they guided him down the hall and to the last bedroom at the end. When they got there, Brown directed them to sit Kinch on the floor, against the wall near the bed. They complied, after which Newkirk grabbed the sheet off the bed and ripped a long strip of material from it. He knelt down next to Kinch and wrapped the cloth around the gunshot wound on his arm, tying it tightly enough to keep it from bleeding, but not so tight that it would cut off the circulation. When he was finished, he sat back on his heels and said, "There, now, 'ow does that feel?"

"It's great, Peter," Kinch replied, smiling at him, "Thanks."

"All right, now you," Brown pointed at Newkirk, "I want you to sit down next to your friend, there." He gestured to the spot between Kinch and the bed.

Newkirk did as he was told. Brown reached into his pocket and pulled out a set of handcuffs. He walked up and squatted down in front of Newkirk, grabbed his hand and slapped one of the cuffs on his wrist. Then he attached the other part to the bed frame. He stood up and took a few steps back, smiling satisfactorily.

"There! You're not going anywhere, now," He gloated.

Thompson looked at Brown curiously. "Where did you get the handcuffs, Lieutenant?"

"Same place I got my gun; from that Kraut guard I knocked out when we escaped from the Stalag."

"Oh, yeah," Thompson responded, "But, why put 'em on Newkirk? Kinchloe's the one that got the gun away from Aikens and locked him up in here, earlier."

Brown let out a sigh of exasperation. "Because, number one, Sergeant Kinchloe is wounded," he explained impatiently, "I don't think he's in any shape to attack Aikens again. And number two, he's not gonna try anything, anyway; not with his friend cuffed to the bed, because he knows I'll kill him," he glanced at Kinch, "Right?"

"Yes, _sir_," Kinch replied, glaring at him.

"And Aikens, here, is going to be a lot more careful, this time," he turned to look at the corporal, "Aren't you?"

"Yes, lieutenant," Aikens said.

"I thought so. Oh, one more thing…" He looked at Thompson, "I believe you have something of our corporal's."

Thompson nodded. He reached into his jacket pocket and brought out the gun that he'd confiscated from Kinch. He handed it to Aikens, scowling at him for letting Kinch get it away from him in the first place. "Think you can hang onto it this time?" he asked sarcastically.

"Yes, I can hang onto it this time," Aikens huffed.

Brown looked at Aikens and leaned in, his eyes narrowing. "See that you do," he said in a low, threatening tone. Then he straightened up and said, "Well, Thompson and I are gonna grab some sleep. You can wake me up in…" he looked at his watch, "Two… No, make it three hours." He let out a huge yawn and started to head for the door, when suddenly he looked back at Kinch. "Oh, and Sergeant," he said to him, "If you _do_ think about trying something, you might want to remember that _I_ have the key to the handcuffs." He smiled wide, and then turned and left; Thompson following right behind him.

* * * * * * * *

"Hey, Louis, did you hear something?" Carter called up to LeBeau, who was once again walking ahead of him through the forest.

LeBeau stopped and turned around. "Like what, Carter?" he asked.

"I don't know, I just thought I heard something."

The two men stood still for a few moments and listened, trying to pick up any sound out of the ordinary. At last LeBeau frowned and said, "Carter, I think you're hearing things."

"Yeah, I guess you're right," Carter replied, although he had a nagging feeling that he'd just missed something important.

LeBeau turned around and started walking, Carter falling in behind him. When they reached the area where the dead rabbit lay, Carter gave it a wide berth. At last they arrived at the tree stump leading to the tunnels under Stalag thirteen, and climbed down. When they got to the radio room, they saw Hogan sitting at the table with the headphones on.

When Hogan spotted LeBeau and Carter, he took off the headphones and practically jumped out of his chair. He came around from behind the table, his eyes straining past the two men, anxiously hoping to see Newkirk and Kinch following them. Then he looked at LeBeau's face, and his hope dissipated.

"I'm sorry, mon Colonel, we didn't find them," LeBeau said, looking as dejected and worried as Hogan felt.

"Did you find _anything_?" Hogan asked.

"Well, sir, we did find a trail that we think they made," Carter began, "So we followed it, but it just ended near a farmhouse, and since we didn't see anyone around, we decided to come back because we didn't want to be late…"

Hogan held up his hand. "I get the picture, Carter."

"How about you, Colonel? Did you hear anything from the Underground?" LeBeau asked.

"Only that none of their agents have seen them, either," Hogan answered. Then he walked over to the table and, without warning, slammed his hand down on it. "Damn! Where can they be?"

No one said anything for several moments. At last Carter piped up, "You want us to go look for them again, Colonel?"

Hogan looked at Carter and LeBeau, seeing the worry on their faces, and knew his own face reflected their concern. He glanced down at his watch, and then back up to the two men. "We've got three hours until roll call," he said, "Let's give the Underground a little more time to try to find them, and then we'll go out and look for them again."

"'We', Colonel?"

Hogan nodded. "Yes, Carter… I'm coming with you."

* * *

(1) Hogan's Heroes; "The Flight Of The Valkyrie", season one


	6. An enlightening conversation

As soon as Lt. Brown and Sgt. Thompson left the bedroom, Cpl. Aikens walked over and grabbed the small hard-backed chair sitting in the corner of the room and placed it against the opposite wall from Kinch and Newkirk, facing them. He sat down on it, shifting a little to get comfortable, and then laid his gun on his lap, like he had earlier when he was watching the farmer and his family.

Newkirk sat on the floor next to Kinch, trying to get comfortable, himself, even though he hurt all over. His head ached where Brown had repeatedly hit it, his face was completely sore – several of the newly-formed bruises on his left cheek were beginning to swell – and his gut felt like he'd been catching baseballs with it. But he knew he needed to get Kinch out of there, and since Brown had left Aikens in charge, he figured he'd just remove the handcuffs, grab Kinch, and they'd sneak out of the house and hightail it back to camp.

Newkirk looked at Aikens, then glanced next to him at Kinch, then back to Aikens again. "Right," he said as he brought his un-cuffed hand up to the front of his uniform and began to rummage around in one of the inside pockets. Almost immediately he pulled out his lock pick, turned toward the bed, and stuck the pick into the lock on the cuff that was holding his wrist to the bed frame.

Aikens' eyes widened. "What are you doing?" he asked, jumping out of his chair, remembering to grab the gun at the last second.

"What does it look like I'm doin'?" Newkirk answered as he continued to work the lock, "I'm gettin' this thing off me wrist."

"You… You can't do that!" Aikens exclaimed.

"Oh, yes I can. Just you watch; a few more twists, a little pull, and Bob's your uncle."

Aikens raised his gun and aimed it at Newkirk. "Stop right now," he ordered, his voice taking on a more commanding tone.

Newkirk stopped and looked at Aikens with surprise; he certainly hadn't been expecting any resistance from him. "Blimey, I thought you were on our side!"

Aikens approached him. "Well, I'm not, so hand it over," he said, holding out his hand expectantly, waiting for Newkirk to deposit the lock pick in it.

Newkirk glanced at Kinch, who just shrugged his shoulders at him. He looked back at Aikens and, letting out a sigh, pulled the pick from the handcuff lock and dropped it onto the American corporal's upturned palm.

Aikens wrapped his fingers around it and took a step back. "You seem to know a lot about locks, and how to open them, don't you?" he said, "I bet the lieutenant would like to know about this."

"Oh, you don't really want to bother 'im about it, do you?" Newkirk asked, a sinking feeling hitting the pit of his stomach.

"How many more of these things do you have on you?" Aikens said.

"Just the one, what you're holdin' in your hand."

Aikens narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Oh, really? So, if I get Sergeant Thompson in here to search you, he's not going to find any more, is he?"

"I already told you, I just 'ad the one, there." Newkirk nodded at Aikens' hand.

"Okay, I believe you." Aikens said. "But I think I'll go get Thompson anyway, just to be sure." He started to back up toward the door, when Newkirk sighed again.

"All right, mate, you got me. I've got one more in me pocket." He reached in and pulled out the other lock pick he had hidden away in his inside pocket, and held it out for Aikens.

Aikens walked up and snatched it from him; then went back and sat down on his chair. "There, see? That wasn't so hard," he said.

Kinch watched the exchange between Newkirk and Aikens, also feeling more than a little surprised that Aikens wasn't about to let them go. He wasn't feeling too good, himself; his head was throbbing, and his arm had a dull ache radiating through it. His dizziness had passed, but now his stomach was beginning to feel queasy. But he knew that he had to get Newkirk out of there, so he decided to try to get Aikens to open up; maybe he could swing him over to their side. He eyed the young American corporal curiously. "Can I ask you something?" he said.

"I guess so," Aikens answered.

"Why _are_ you with that Lieutenant?"

"I told you before; it's none of your business." Aikens shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

"You don't seem like the type of guy to be holding us hostage," Kinch said.

"Well, I am, so don't even think about trying anything," Aikens huffed.

"You did a nice thing for that German family, you know; especially for Odette," Kinch remarked.

Aikens shrugged.

"And now you're holding a gun on me and Newkirk, here, for a man who you know is up to no good."

Aikens remained silent.

"A man who shot me, and beat up my friend…" Kinch looked at Newkirk, "He did beat you up, didn't he?"

Newkirk nodded, confirming his suspicion.

Anger flashed in Kinch's eyes, which he promptly squelched for the time being. He turned back to Aikens and continued. "A man who's probably going to kill us when he's done using us for, for… What _is_ he planning on using us for, anyway?"

"He doesn't need both of you; just Newkirk," Aikens blurted out, "And he's not going to kill you." Then, realizing he shouldn't be talking about Brown's plan, he quickly shut up.

"Are you sure about that?" Kinch pressed, hoping to get Aikens to divulge more information.

"Yeah," Newkirk added, "I don't think he's plannin' on just lettin' us go."

"He's not a murderer," Aikens replied, sounding frustrated.

"How do you know?" Kinch asked pointedly.

"Because he said so!"

"And you believe 'im?" Newkirk shook his head. "Aven't you been payin' attention, mate? Don't you see 'ow much he hates me? What do _you_ think he's goin' to do when he's through usin' me for whatever it is he's got in mind? And what about me mate, Kinch, 'ere? He likes Kinch, and he shot 'im in the arm!"

"He was just trying to break up a fight…"

"With 'is gun?"

The room fell silent for a few moments. At last Aikens piped up, "Look, you both seem like decent guys, and I'd really like to help you out, but I can't, okay?"

"What's he got on you?" Kinch asked softly, staring at him intently.

"It's nothing like that," Aikens replied, "It's… It's none of your business!"

"He's going to kill me and Newkirk," Kinch stated matter-of-factly, "And you know it."

Aikens remained quiet, dropping his gaze to the floor.

"And when he's through with _you_; what do you think he's going to do?" Kinch added.

Aikens' eyes shot up; he glared at Kinch. "He'd never kill me! He needs me too much."

"For what?"

"For…" Aikens caught himself. "Oh, you're good, Sergeant, but I don't crack that easily. Your tricks aren't going to work on me," he replied smugly.

Kinch sighed. "I'm not trying to trick you, Aikens, I'm trying to save your life."

Aikens' eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"

"He means that if Brown is the type of bloke, what would kill someone when he's through usin' 'im, like me or Kinch, then he's not goin' to stop there, is he?"

"Newkirk's right," Kinch said, "And even if he doesn't kill you, you'll be an accessory to murder."

Aikens sat there, staring at Kinch and Newkirk; then glanced down at his hand that held the lock picks. He frowned as he contemplated what they both had said. At last he looked up at the two men sitting against the opposite wall. "If I let you escape, the lieutenant will be very angry, and he'll take it out on me."

"Then, come with us!" Newkirk exclaimed, "We can get you to safety; it's what we bloomin' came out 'ere to do in the first place!"

Aikens thought furiously. "But, I can't… I mean, I was going to get out of Germany…"

"And you will," Kinch said, "We can get you out of here, and send you to London; it's what we do. That's why we came to get you – all of you – in the first place."

"Yeah, but then they'll just assign me to some unit, and send me right back into the war. I could end up getting stuck here again!"

A light went on in Kinch's brain. "So, that's it! The lieutenant's deserting, isn't he? And he's talked you and those other guys into coming with him."

"So what if he is?" Aikens practically shouted, "If you could get out of here, and go live someplace safe, wouldn't you? Away from all this killing and death…" He paused for a moment, visibly fighting to maintain his control. At last he continued in a calmer voice. "I just want to live a normal life, and forget about this whole, stinking war, okay? And the lieutenant's going to help me do that."

"And what 'appens when you get caught?" Newkirk interjected.

"We're not going to get caught," Aikens retorted.

"You sure about that, mate?"

"Yeah, are you really willing to risk your whole future, just to get out of fighting in this war a little longer?" Kinch added.

"You don't know what I've been through!" Aikens was shouting again.

"No, but we know what you're _gonna_ go through, when you get caught," Kinch stated calmly, "Especially if the lieutenant kills me and Newkirk."

Aikens glowered at them briefly; then he sighed and, once again, looked down and stared at the long, thin metal picks in his hand. After a full minute he finally looked up and glanced back and forth between Newkirk and Kinch. Then, with a grim determination on his face, he stood up. "All right," he said, taking a step toward the English corporal, "You guys can go, but I'm staying here. I'll think of something to tell the lieutenant." He started to extend his hand toward Newkirk, when the door behind him suddenly flew open, and Brown came striding in.

"Oh, Aikens, I just wanted to tell you…" Brown stopped and stared at the sight in front of him for a moment. "What's going on, here?" he yelled.

Aikens, who had initially froze in his tracks, now whirled around and held out his hand. "Oh, Lieutenant, look what I found on Newkirk, here," he announced.

Brown looked at Aikens' hand. He reached over and grabbed the lock picks, and as he held them up in front of his face, he asked, "What are these?"

"They're for opening locks. He was trying to pick the lock on the handcuffs."

Brown turned his gaze to Newkirk. "So, we have a criminal in our midst, do we?" He walked up and stood in front of Newkirk, staring down at him with curiosity. "Tell me something, Corporal, where did you learn how to pick locks?"

Without missing a beat, Newkirk replied, "Me mum taught me; she was a mastermind, she was. Used to sneak into folks' houses and steal their family portraits – we couldn't afford to 'ave one taken of us, you see…"

Brown's anger instantly surfaced. He brought his foot back and then swung it forward, kicking Newkirk hard in the shin. "Knock it off!" he shouted at him.

Newkirk let out a groan and pulled his knee up to his chest, wrapping his unchained arm around the throbbing leg.

Kinch looked up at Brown, his eyes narrowing. "You best keep your hands off him," he said in a low, threatening voice.

Brown pulled his gun out of his belt and aimed it at Kinch. "Or, what? I already shot you once; don't make me do it again." He took a few steps back, then grinned, "Besides, I used my foot, not my hands."

Kinch glared at him, deep down wishing the old adage was true… If looks _could_ kill, Brown would have dropped dead right then.

"Well, I suppose it doesn't matter where you picked it up," Brown said, returning his gaze to Newkirk, "I'm glad to know about it, now. You might be more useful to us than I thought." He turned to Aikens and clapped him on the shoulder. "Good work, Corporal," he told him, "Keep it up."

"Yes, sir," Aikens replied quietly.

Brown turned to leave, when suddenly he caught himself. He looked back at Aikens and said, "Oh, the reason I came in here… I want you to check on Rodriguez in an hour or so; make sure he's still with us."

Aikens looked at him questioningly. "Make sure he's still with us?" he repeated.

"Yeah, wake him up, see if he knows who you are, and where he is… You know, if he's still, 'with us'," he reached up and tapped the side of his head.

"Oh, of course," Aikens nodded, "That's right, he hit his head…"

"Yes, he did," Brown said, "And someone needs to wake him up in about an hour. So, since me and Thompson are going to be sleeping, you're it."

"Yes, sir," Aikens replied, "I'll check on Rodriguez in an hour."

"Good." Brown let out a huge yawn. "Well, I'm off to find a bed and get some shut-eye."

"All right, sir, goodnight."

"Goodnight, Aikens. And don't forget to wake _me_ up in," Brown glanced at his watch, "Two and a half hours."

"No sir, I won't," Aikens replied as Brown headed out the door, closing it behind him.

Aikens sighed. Then he walked over to the chair he was using earlier and took a seat, wondering what the two men he was guarding were going to say to him now.

* * * * * * * *

"None of your men have seen any trace of them?" Hogan said into the microphone as he conversed with one of the Underground agents, "Are you sure?" He listened for the response, and then said, "No, that's all right, thanks for your help. Papa Bear out."

"No luck, Colonel?" LeBeau asked, already knowing the answer.

Hogan let out a big sigh. "Nope, no luck." He glanced at his watch and said, "Looks like we're gonna have to go out and try to find them ourselves."

"How much time do we have, Colonel?" Carter asked.

"About two and a half hours, then we need to be back for roll call."

"And if we don't find them, mon Colonel?" LeBeau couldn't help asking.

"Then we're gonna have to try to come up with a way to cover for them, or Klink's gonna have an escape on his hands."

The men stared at each other for a moment; each of them desperately hoping they'd find their missing friends before it came to that. At last Hogan broke the silence.

"Where did you say their trail ended, Carter?"

"Well, sir," Carter answered, "We know that they must have made it at least as far as that farmhouse we traced them to; that's where the trail sort of disappeared into the field just past the woods."

"All right, then that's where we'll start looking," Hogan stated. He started to walk down the tunnel toward the tree stump exit, when he heard Carter's voice behind him.

"You know," the sergeant remarked, "The thing I can't figure out, Colonel, is why they went that way in the first place."

Hogan stopped and turned around to look at him. "Me, neither," he replied, "But when we find 'em, I'm sure as hell gonna ask!" Then he turned back, and the three men went up through the exit and out into the forest; the second time that night for Carter and LeBeau.

* * * * * * * *

Aikens sat on the chair, glancing uncomfortably at different points in the room, obviously trying to keep his gaze from landing on Kinch or Newkirk. He finally picked a spot on the floor in front of him, and just stared at it; waiting for one of the men he was guarding to say something. As the silence stretched on, he finally couldn't take the suspense anymore, and looked up at them. "Well, go ahead, say it!" He blurted out angrily.

"Say what?" Newkirk replied innocently.

"That I'm a coward." Aikens dropped his gaze, and went back to staring at the spot on the floor. "Go on, say it…I know that's what you're thinking," he uttered dejectedly.

"You said it, mate, we didn't," Newkirk retorted.

Kinch shot Newkirk a glance as if to say, _let me handle it._ Then he looked at Aikens. "We don't think you're a coward," he told the corporal, "In fact, if you hadn't handed over Newkirk's lock picks, Brown would have known we were up to something, and we'd all be in serious trouble right now."

Aikens thought about it for a moment; then he looked up at Kinch and nodded. "That's true," he said, "I mean, what else could I do? The lieutenant would have been _really_ angry if he knew I was gonna help you guys sneak out of here."

"Right!" Kinch replied, "So, you actually did us all a favor."

"Some favor!" Newkirk muttered, "_Now_ 'ow are we goin' to bloody get out of 'ere?"

Kinch scowled at him. "Newkirk…"

Newkirk sighed. "Yeah, Kinch, I know you're right. It's not Aikens' fault… It's that bloody lieutenant! Oh, I'd like to wring 'is neck…"

"So would I," Kinch cut in. He looked over at Aikens and asked, "I'd still like to know what the lieutenant is up to, and why he needs Newkirk."

Aikens stared back, appearing to be thinking it over.

"And I'd really like to know how you became involved in all this," Kinch added.

A few more moments ticked by. At last Aikens inhaled a large breath, and let it out slowly. "Okay, I'll tell you what's going on. I don't think you guys knowing about it is going to hurt anything."

Newkirk and Kinch leaned back against the wall, waiting patiently for Aikens to begin.


	7. Survivor's guilt

Aikens cleared his throat and leaned forward a little, resting his hands on his lap; one on either side of the gun that was lying there. He stared at Kinch and Newkirk for a few moments, as if trying to decide where to begin. At last he appeared to be ready.

"Well, I suppose the first thing I should tell you is that Lieutenant Brown is loaded," Aikens said.

"What, you mean, drunk?" Newkirk cut in, "He didn't look all _that_ drunk to me."

Kinch leaned a little towards Newkirk. "He means rich, Peter."

Newkirk frowned. "Well, why didn't he just say so?" he muttered back.

"Kinch looked at Aikens. "Sorry, go ahead," he told him.

Aikens inwardly rolled his eyes. "As I was saying," he started again, "Lieutenant Brown is rich. Only he's not just rich, he's filthy rich. He's got his money stashed in a bank in Switzerland. That's where we're headed first, and that's why we need someone who speaks German."

Newkirk's eyes had widened substantially as Aikens was talking. Then they quickly narrowed, and he found himself asking, "Just how filthy rich are we talkin', 'ere?"

Aikens leaned in like he was divulging a huge secret. "I heard he's got a million dollars in that bank!" he practically whispered.

"Blimey…" Newkirk breathed, transfixed by the thought of that much money.

"Easy there, Newkirk," Kinch said, knowing his friend too well. "I don't think the lieutenant's planning on sharing any of that with us."

"No, sorry," Aikens said, "Only me, Thompson and Rodriguez get a cut."

"Oh, bugger," Newkirk mumbled under his breath.

The corners of Aikens' mouth turned up when he heard Newkirk's remark. Then he raised his hand and coughed into it, masking the smile that was threatening to overtake his face. He squelched the impulse quickly, and dropped his hand back onto his lap.

"Anyway," Aikens said, continuing on with his story, "Once we get out of Germany and into Switzerland, we're going to go to that bank, and the lieutenant's going to take out all his money. Then we're going to slip into France as invisibly as we can; hopefully we'll pick up someone by then who speaks French. Then we'll sneak our way south until we get to Spain. Once we get to Spain, Rodriguez will take over translating for us."

"Don't tell me, let me guess… Rodriguez speaks Spanish." Newkirk said.

Aikens nodded. "Yes, he does. I think he said his parents immigrated to the United States from Mexico. Anyway, he's going to get us through Spain, and into Portugal." Aikens then sat back slightly on his chair, unconsciously puffing up his chest a little. "And that's where I take over," he informed them, pride radiating from his voice, "I speak Portuguese."

It was Kinch's turn to look surprised. "You do?"

Aikens smiled. "Yes, I do. My father was a biologist, and a professor at the university where he worked. When he was younger, he and a group of scientists went down to the Amazon to do some studies, and that's where he met my mom."

Kinch's eyes widened. "In the Amazon?"

Aikens rolled his eyes. "In Rio de Janeiro! You know; the capital of Brazil?" (1)

"Oh," Kinch responded, looking somewhat embarrassed.

"From what he told me, his group stayed there for a few days before they came back to the U.S. I'm not sure what they did there, though…He was always a little vague about it."

Kinch exchanged a knowing glance with Newkirk. "I'm sure they were just relaxing after all the hard work they put in; from studying the Amazon," Kinch said.

"Yeah, that's what my dad always told me," Aikens replied. "In any case, he returned with my mom, who spoke only Portuguese. So, when I was growing up, I learned Portuguese from her, and she learned English from my dad. Oh, and also from the English courses she took."

"So, does that mean you're planning to hide out from the war in Portugal?" Kinch asked.

Aikens grinned. "Not exactly. You see, there's a group of islands off the west coast of Africa; the Madeira Islands, which belong to Portugal. I know about them from my uncle – my mom's brother – who lived there for many years. He came to visit us once, a long time ago, and told us how beautiful the place was. He said it was like a garden, and the people there are very friendly." Aikens' expression took on a faraway look, "He showed us pictures, and he was right. It's the most incredible place I've ever seen; a real paradise on Earth…" He continued to stare into space for a moment with a dreamy look on his face, and then, realizing what he was doing, quickly came back to reality. "When I told the lieutenant about it, he got all excited, and said that's where we need to go. So, that's where we're going."

A moment of silence descended on them after Aikens finished. At last Newkirk spoke up.

"You sure the lieutenant wouldn't want to share some o' that million dollars with 'is German translator?"

"Newkirk!" Kinch exclaimed.

"Yeah, I know, Kinch," Newkirk smiled at him, "You can't blame a bloke for tryin'!"

The side of Kinch's mouth rose in a lopsided grin. "Well, at least I know what _your _price is," he teased. Then he turned back to Aikens. "So, if Brown is planning to use Newkirk to get all of you through Germany and into Switzerland, what's he planning to do with me?"

Another moment of silence passed as Aikens shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "To tell you the truth," he finally said, "I don't know. I thought he would've let you go by now. Maybe he's going to bring you with us, to help keep Newkirk in line."

Kinch shot a glance at Newkirk. He could tell by the Englishman's eyes that Newkirk no more believed a word of that than he did.

"Maybe you should tell 'im," Newkirk said, low enough that only Kinch heard.

"Tell him what?" Kinch replied just as quietly.

"Tell the lieutenant that you speak German. You know he'd want to bloomin' keep you, then."

"And what about you, Peter? If Brown finds out I speak German, he won't need you, anymore. And I think we all know what would happen then, considering how he feels about you."

Newkirk looked at Kinch determinedly. "I'm willin' to take that chance, mate, if it means keepin' 'im from, well, gettin' rid of you."

"What are you two mumbling about?" Aikens asked curiously.

"Oh, nothin'," Newkirk said, "Just that, I think Kinch 'ere has somethin' to tell the lieutenant…"

Kinch raised his uninjured left arm and swung it over, clamping his hand tightly over Newkirk's mouth. "No, I don't," he replied, "Well, other than the fact that I'm hungry, and so is Newkirk. And we could both use some aspirin," he added. Then he glanced over at Newkirk and removed his hand, flashing him a warning look.

Aikens eyed them suspiciously, but decided to let it go. "I don't think you want to bother the lieutenant right now; not when he's sleeping."

"No, I suppose you're right," Kinch replied. Then he looked at Aikens curiously. "So, you've told us why Brown needs you and Rodriguez. What does he need Thompson for?"

Aikens scowled. "Thompson's sort of the lieutenant's body guard." He leaned in a little and said in a conspiratorial tone, "And he's not very bright, either, if you ask me. But he's big, and he's strong, and he's protective of the lieutenant, so he's part of the group."

"Just like a ruddy guard dog, is he?" Newkirk grinned.

"No, not a guard dog," Aikens countered, a grin forming on his own face, "Guard dogs are smart."

All three men chuckled over that. When it grew quiet again, Kinch piped up. "You still haven't told us how you got mixed up in all this."

The mirth in Aikens' eyes immediately vanished. "It's…complicated," he said.

"I'd still like to know." Kinch told him.

"It's a long story…"

"We're not bloody goin' anywhere." Newkirk said.

Aikens stared at them for a few moments. Then he let out a huge sigh. "All right, I'll tell you, but you have to swear not to tell anyone else; I mean it!"

Both Kinch and Newkirk looked back at him determinedly. "I promise, we won't tell another living soul," Kinch stated sincerely.

"That's right, mate," Newkirk added, "We won't tell. You can trust us."

Aikens nodded. "Okay, I believe you. Well, I guess I'll start from when my parents died…"

* * * * * * * *

Hogan, Carter, and LeBeau had reached the rendezvous point in the woods where Newkirk and Kinch were supposed to have met up with the escaped prisoners. After looking over the area briefly, Hogan walked over to where LeBeau had crouched down, looking at something on the ground.

"Here, Colonel," LeBeau said while pointing to a partial boot print in a small, visible patch of dirt, "This is where we picked up their trail." He looked up in the direction that he and Carter had gone earlier that night. "And when we followed it, it led us straight to that farmhouse we told you about."

"Then that's where we'll go," Hogan said. He waited for LeBeau to stand up, and then he let the Frenchman take the lead as he fell in behind him; Carter bringing up the rear.

They hadn't gone far when the trio suddenly heard a fairly loud crashing noise in the forest directly ahead of them. The three men stopped dead in their tracks, and as the noise grew closer, Hogan hissed, "Take cover!"

LeBeau went right, while Hogan and Carter dove left. They hunkered down in the bushes next to the trail, waiting anxiously for the source of the noise to reveal itself. When it finally did, they couldn't have been more surprised.

* * * * * * * *

"My folks were coming back from a dinner being held by the university; you know, one of those award dinners where they congratulate each other for all the hard work they've done, and everyone deserves to get an award…" Aikens paused, visibly attempting to keep his emotions under control. Then he continued, "Anyway, when they were driving back, they got hit by another car. Turns out it was one of the other professors at the award ceremony that night; Ed Ferguson, one of my dad's colleagues, and friend. He'd had a little too much to drink…" Aikens stopped and glanced down at the floor, fighting the tears that were threatening to fall at the memory of that night.

"I'm sorry, Aikens, I really am," Kinch replied softly.

"Yeah, me too, mate," Newkirk said, "I know it's 'ard to lose your parents; me own mum died before the war."

Aikens looked up at them, noting the sincerity in their eyes. "Thanks," he responded, and continued on with his tale. "After that, I just couldn't stand being there; I had to get as far away from home as possible. I was eighteen and fresh out of high school, and I didn't know what else to do, so I joined the Army. They decided I had some skills, I guess, so they sent me to the Army Air Corps… I mean, the Army Air Force – I still forget they changed that, sometimes. (2) Anyway, they trained me to be a radio operator, and when we entered the war, they stuck me with a bomber squadron.

"The next thing I knew, we were flying bombing raids over Germany. Then one night, after we released our payload and were heading back, we got hit by an anti-aircraft barrage, and the plane was knocked out. Luckily, we bailed out before the plane crashed, and floated to safety. Me and some of the other guys on the crew grabbed up what we could and started walking; hoping we could somehow get out of Germany and back to England. We didn't get far before we heard shouting, and we knew it was probably a German patrol…"

Aikens stopped; once again noticeably trying to compose himself enough to relay the next part of his story. After several moments, he continued. "We started running, but then we heard gunfire, and suddenly it seemed like there were German soldiers coming at us from all sides. I just happened to be standing next to a huge cluster of bushes, and, without thinking, I dove right into the middle of them. Well, the Germans didn't see me, but they rounded up the other four guys with me, and made them stand in a line next to each other. They searched them for weapons, and then they backed up, and pointed their rifles at them, and then they…they…"

Aikens raised his hand and wiped away the few tears that had begun to fall from his eyes. "They shot my friends… Just shot 'em!" He practically shouted, "And I didn't do anything to help them; I just hid there in those bushes and watched…and hoped that the Germans wouldn't find me." His tears started flowing faster. "I should have done something, but I was too afraid… I'm nothing but a coward!"

"Aikens," Kinch spoke quietly, "You're not a coward. There's nothing you could have done for them. If the German soldiers had found you, they would have killed you, too."

"You don't know that!" Aikens shouted.

"Yes, I do," Kinch replied calmly, "And I think you know it, too."

Aikens stared at Kinch for a moment. Then he nodded and looked at the floor. "I should have died with them, you know," he muttered, "But I was too scared. And now they're gone and I'm here, and I shouldn't be." He raised his head. "And that's what makes me a coward."

"What?" Newkirk exclaimed, raising his eyebrows, "You think just because the Krauts didn't kill you, you're a coward? Blimey, then I guess we're all cowards, aren't we?"

"Newkirk, let me handle this…"

Newkirk shook his head. "No, Kinch, let me say what I 'ave to say." He turned his attention back to Aikens. "Let me ask you somethin'; 'ow would you 'ave felt if you'd been killed, but one of your mates 'ad survived?"

"I don't know… I mean, I'd be dead."

Newkirk rolled his eyes. "Never mind that! Just pretend you know what's goin' on after you die. 'Ow would you feel if one of your mates _didn't_ get shot with you and the others?"

Aikens didn't hesitate. "Well, of course I'd feel happy that he didn't get killed; anyone would!"

Newkirk smiled. "Well, then, has it ever occurred to you that your friends might be 'appy that_ you_ didn't get shot?"

As Aikens thought about it, his eyes began to widen at the realization of what Newkirk was saying. "So, you think they'd be happy that I survived?"

"Yes, I do, mate."

Kinch leaned over and whispered in Newkirk's ear, "Nice going, Peter."

"Told you, you could trust me," Newkirk whispered back.

Kinch flashed him a grin. "I always have." Then he looked at Aikens. "Newkirk's right, your friends would be very happy that you survived. And since you're the only one who knows what happened to them, I think it's up to you to tell someone. I bet their families would like to know."

"Yeah, maybe you're right," Aikens replied, "I have to admit, I never thought of it that way."

"That's why it's good to talk these things out, sometimes," Kinch stated. "So, how did you end up in a POW camp?"

"Oh, well, as soon as the patrol left, I ran. I didn't get very far when another patrol spotted me, and ordered me to stop. I did, and after they captured me, they took me to some kind of processing center, and then sent me on to Stalag four."

"Is that where you met Lieutenant Brown?" Kinch asked.

"Yes, but he didn't arrive until much later. Me, Thompson, and Rodriguez were already there when he showed up."

"So, he's not from your unit, then?" It was Newkirk's turn to ask a question.

"No, his plane was shot down more recently."

Kinch raised an eyebrow. "And you decided to follow him on this crazy scheme of his because…"

"Because he promised to get me out of Germany, and I would never have to fight again!" Aikens exclaimed.

"Maybe not," Newkirk said, "But you'll be a ruddy criminal; on the run for the rest of your life. Is that what you really want?"

"I…I don't know…"

"Then, why don't you help us?" Kinch suggested, "We can get you out of trouble, and you won't have to worry about Brown anymore."

Aikens stared at him. "You can?"

"Yes, we can. Well, us, and a certain American Colonel. Will you trust us?"

The conflicting emotions on Aikens face warred with each other for a few moments as he agonized over what he should do. At last his conscience won out, and he nodded. "Okay, I'll trust you," he sighed. "What do you want me to do?"

"Ow about gettin' me mate Kinch out of 'ere?" Newkirk immediately replied.

"How is that going to help?" Aikens asked.

"He can get us some reinforcements," Newkirk answered.

"I don't want to leave without you, Newkirk," Kinch said.

"Well, you're goin' to bloody 'ave to, mate," Newkirk raised his hand and rattled the handcuffs attaching him to the bed frame. "Don't worry, I'll be all right," he said, trying to reassure his friend.

Knowing he didn't have much of a choice, Kinch nodded. "Okay, I'll go."

"I can probably sneak you out of here," Aikens said, "Those other guys are pretty sound sleepers." He stood up and walked over to Kinch. "Are you sure you can make it?" he asked, knowing the sergeant wasn't in very good shape.

"I'm sure," Kinch stated. "Just help me up, okay?"

Aikens reached down and helped the tall man to his feet. He waited a moment as Kinch stopped swaying, and then guided him to the door. Kinch stopped and turned to take one last look at Newkirk.

"Hurry back, mate," Newkirk said, trying not to sound as worried as he felt.

Kinch smiled. "You'll never even know I was gone." He turned back, and held onto Aikens as he walked him to the main door of the house, both of them keeping their eyes open for any sign of Brown or Thompson. Seeing none, Aikens let Kinch out, flashing him a look of hope mixed with fear.

Kinch returned his look with one of calm reassurance, and slipped out into the night, his only goal at this point to get back to camp.

He started out well enough, but the farther he walked, the more his head and arm throbbed, and he began to feel dizzy again, which was causing him to stumble more and more. He was nearing the rendezvous point, hoping no Germans were around to hear all the noise he was making, when three men suddenly jumped out of the bushes on either side of the trail. He nearly lost his balance, and then cried out joyfully, "Colonel Hogan! Carter! LeBeau! Boy, am I glad to see you!"

* * *

(1) Rio de Janeiro was the capital of Brazil from 1763 until 1960, when it formally became Brasilia. – Source: Wikipedia

(2) The United States Army Air Corps (USAAC) was created in July of 1926, and became the United States Army Air Force (USAAF) in June of 1941. Then in September of 1947 it became the United States Air Force (USAF), which is what it is today. – Source: Wikipedia


	8. Timing is everything

A/N: I just wanted to say that I don't share any of the views expressed by Lieutenant Brown in this story. As a matter of fact, my mother's side of the family is from England.

* * *

"Kinch! Oh, mon ami, you are hurt!" LeBeau was the closest to him, and as he reached out to steady the sergeant, he immediately noticed the cloth tied around his arm, dark red stains splotched on either side of it.

Hogan and Carter stepped up quickly to join them. "Kinch, what happened? Are you all right?" Hogan asked, getting a good look at him.

"I'm okay, Colonel," Kinch answered, still attempting to catch his breath from the combination of trying to move quickly through the woods in his condition; and the shock that his C.O and friends had put him through when they jumped out at him.

"You don't look okay to me," Carter stated worriedly, studying the man who was now leaning on LeBeau, breathing heavily.

"I'll second that," Hogan said. "Kinch, what's going on? Where have you been?" he asked, and, after glancing around for a moment, added, "And where's Newkirk?"

"Colonel, I'll tell you everything… Just let me sit down for a minute," Kinch puffed out.

"Oh, sorry Kinch, of course…" Hogan grabbed Kinch's left side, and together with LeBeau, helped him to sit down on the ground, in front of a big, sturdy tree. Kinch leaned back against the tree trunk and let out a groan; partly from exhaustion, partly from relief.

Hogan crouched down in front of Kinch, his own worry slowly taking over his face, no matter how hard he tried to mask it. "It's okay, take your time," he said, while inside he felt like his nerves were on fire; his patience nearing its end.

It took a minute or so for Kinch's body to finally relax. His breathing slowed down, and his dizziness faded, although his arm was still throbbing, and he had one heck of a headache. But he knew he needed to tell Hogan what happened to him and Newkirk, so they could go back and save their English comrade. He took a big breath and let it out slowly, and then began his tale. "Well, sir, it all started when we got to the rendezvous point…"

As Kinch talked, the faces of the men in front of him slowly began to register shock; none more so than Hogan. Only the colonel's expression also revealed the anger that was welling up inside him. Kinch noticed Hogan's eyes flash darkly when he came to the part where Brown shot him, and he got a similar reaction from his C.O. when he mentioned that Brown beat up Newkirk. By the time he reached the end of his story, including the fact that Aikens helped him escape, Hogan was positively livid.

"So, Lieutenant Brown thinks he can beat up and kidnap my men, does he?" Hogan replied, anger punctuating his words, "Well, we'll see about that!" He stood up and turned to his other two men. "Carter, LeBeau, I think it's time we show this lieutenant how things work around here. We're going to that house, and when we get there, I want you two to get Newkirk; I'll take care of Brown myself."

"It won't be that easy, Colonel," Kinch said, "Brown's got Thompson in there, and they both have guns. And Newkirk's chained up in the back bedroom, like I told you, and the lieutenant's not only got the key to the handcuffs, but Newkirk's lock picks as well."

"What about the other guy you mentioned… Rodriguez?" Carter asked.

Kinch grinned. "I don't think you have to worry about him."

"Then it shouldn't be that hard," Hogan said, "It's three against two, and we've got guns, too."

Kinch brought his legs in closer and pushed himself up off the ground with his left hand. As he stood up, he used the same hand to brace himself against the tree. He waited for a few moments to let the throbbing in his head calm down, and the dizziness to pass. Then he looked at Hogan and said, "You mean four against two, don't you, sir?"

Hogan immediately shook his head. "No, Kinch. The only place you're going is back to camp."

"Colonel, I know the layout of the inside of the house, and which room Newkirk's in. I can sneak us in there and show you where it is, and then we can take Lieutenant Brown and Sergeant Thompson by surprise."

"I think we can do that by ourselves," Hogan stated, "You're in no condition to…"

"I have to come with you!" Kinch suddenly shouted.

Hogan's eyes widened with shock at Kinch's outburst. He'd never heard his staff sergeant raise his voice to him like that before. He stood there, staring at him with his mouth slightly agape; at a complete loss for words.

Kinch immediately realized what he'd done. "I'm sorry, sir," he quickly responded, "I meant no disrespect, but I promised Newkirk I would be back. Besides, I'm feeling better, really, and I know I can help. Please, Colonel, let me come with you."

Hogan certainly couldn't fault him for his loyalty. And he had to admit, it would be helpful to have Kinch along, since he _was_ familiar with the inside of the house. "All right, Kinch, you can come."

Kinch breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you, sir."

"But if you start feeling light-headed, or dizzy, or anything like that, you're going to sit down – wherever we are – and you're going to stay there and rest until we either get back, or until it's time to return to camp. Understood?"

Kinch nodded. "Understood, Colonel."

Hogan smirked at him. "You're as stubborn as me, you know."

Kinch smiled. "Yes, sir!"

Hogan rolled his eyes, and then shook his head. "C'mon, let's go," he said, motioning to all of them, and they once again headed off down the trail, in the direction of the farmhouse.

* * * * * * * *

After Aikens watched Kinch walk away, silently wishing him good luck, he shut the door, turned, and headed into the front room; deciding he'd better check on Rodriguez before returning to the bedroom to rejoin Newkirk. He still wasn't sure he'd done the right thing – he had a pretty good idea what the lieutenant would do if he found out what was going on before Kinch got back with help – but he also knew that he was tired of living in fear. He had to stop trying to run away from his problems, and he certainly didn't want to spend the rest of his life looking over his shoulder. It was time for him to take responsibility for himself and his actions. _Yes,_ he thought to himself_, I'm doing the right thing._

He walked up to the sofa where Rodriguez was sleeping, and, leaning over him, put his hand on the sergeant's shoulder. "Hey, Rodriguez, wake up," he said quietly, while giving the man's shoulder a little shake.

Rodriguez moaned, and then opened his eyes a crack. He squinted up at Aikens, and asked irritably, "What's going on? Why are you waking me up?"

"I just wanted to make sure you're okay," Aikens told him.

"Well, I _was_ okay, until you woke me up… Now I've got a splitting headache. So why don't you buzz off and let me go back to sleep?"

"Okay, okay! I was just checking on you like the lieutenant told me to."

"You can tell the _lieutenant_… Oh, never mind. Just leave me alone!"

"Okay, I'm going!" Aikens replied crossly. Then he straightened up and walked out of the room, mumbling to himself, "Boy, you try to help some people…"

As Aikens approached the bedroom, he noticed the door was open a crack. _Funny, I thought I closed it when I helped Kinch out. _He crept up to it and pushed it open a little wider; his eyes darting around the room as he peered in. His gaze was quickly drawn to Newkirk, who had looked up at him when he'd opened the door; a rather odd expression on his face. He glanced down at Newkirk's lap and his blood froze; the Englishman's hands were in his lap, and his wrists were cuffed together! Before he even had time to blink, the door was yanked open from the other side, and Brown was standing there, looking very angry.

"Where have you been?" Brown barked at him, "And where's Sergeant Kinchloe?"

Aikens swallowed hard. "I was checking on Rodriguez, like you told me to," he replied, his voice shaking despite his best efforts to sound calm.

"Oh? And how is he?" Brown retorted, as if he didn't believe him.

"He told me to buzz off and let him sleep," Aikens answered truthfully.

Brown nodded, albeit grudgingly. "Yeah, that sounds like Rodriguez. All right, so you checked up on him, that still doesn't explain where Sergeant Kinchloe is."

"He was here when I left," Aikens said, knowing that was sort of true, "I don't know where he is now," he added; which was completely true.

Brown studied Aikens closely. "You know, I'd like to believe you. I mean, since you're on my team, I'd like to know that I can trust you." He walked up to Aikens until he was standing a mere two feet in front of him. "I'm sure you didn't have anything to do with the sergeant's disappearance, did you?" he asked, looking at him suspiciously.

"_I'll_ tell you what 'appened," Newkirk interjected from his spot on the floor, "Kinch left because he couldn't stand lookin' at your face!"

Brown whirled around and glared at Newkirk. "Oh, that's it! I've had all I can stand of you and your mouth!" He strode up to the corporal and grabbed the front of his jacket, yanking him roughly to his feet. Then he shoved the corporal up against the wall, pulled out the gun that was tucked into his belt, and jammed the business end of it up underneath Newkirk's chin, causing the Englishman to tilt his head back until it was also against the wall.

"You Brits are all the same," Brown growled at him, "Nothing but a bunch of smart-mouthed pansies. If it weren't for your kind stinking up London, I never would have gotten into all that trouble…" He stopped as he realized what he'd been about to reveal. His eyes narrowed, and he pushed the gun a little harder up against Newkirk's chin. "Do you know how much I want to blow your brains out right now?" he said in a low, threatening voice, then leaned in until his face was mere inches from Newkirk's and shouted, "Do you?"

Newkirk just stared back, wide-eyed, trying to brace himself for the shot that he fully expected Brown to take. He knew he shouldn't have made that last comment, but he didn't like the direction that the conversation between Aikens and Brown was going, and he'd decided to divert the lieutenant's attention away from the American corporal. Now, standing there, frozen in fear, jammed up against the wall with a gun to his face, all he could do was hope that the end would come quickly.

"One word," Brown hissed at Newkirk, while pressing the gun harder against Newkirk's flesh, "Just one more word out of your mouth, and I'll pull this trigger. C'mon, one more word… Just say it!"

Aikens knew why Newkirk had spoken up, and he felt relieved, terrible, and guilty; all at the same time. He desperately needed to stop Brown from doing what he was planning on doing, but he was fighting his own fear, as well. "Uh, Lieutenant?" he called out softly, "I think we still need Newkirk to get us through Germany."

Brown just stood there like he hadn't heard him, staring at Newkirk and seething with rage.

"Lieutenant?" Aikens said a little louder. Then, when he still hadn't gotten a response, he tried again. "Lieutenant Brown?"

At last Brown leaned back a little and heaved a sigh. He pulled the gun down away from Newkirk's face, and replied irritably, "Yes, Aikens, I heard you, and you're right; we need him to get out of Germany."

Both Aikens and Newkirk mentally breathed a sigh of relief. But Brown wasn't finished yet. He leaned in once again until his face was almost touching Newkirk's. "I haven't forgotten what I said to you earlier," he whispered, "You know, I've been to prison, and I know just how to use you; if you know what I mean."

Newkirk gaped at him; his eyes practically bulging out of their sockets. His stomach twisted into a knot, and he felt his throat suddenly go dry…he couldn't seem to swallow, no matter how hard he tried.

Brown noticed his reaction and smiled broadly. "Ah, you _do_ understand. Maybe you'll remember that the next time you want to open that smart mouth of yours."

"Uh, lieutenant?" Aikens said yet again, glancing at his watch, "You've got less than two hours, if you still want to get some sleep."

Brown turned his head to look at his corporal. "What? You think I'm going back to sleep? Don't you understand anything? We've got to get out of here!" He released Newkirk, who sagged against the wall, and turned around, heading for the door. "I'll wake up Thompson and Rodriguez. I want you to start going through the closets in the bedrooms, and try to find men's clothes that will fit us. We're not going to make it very far in our uniforms." He was already starting down the hall when he abruptly turned back. "And Aikens, keep an eye on him," he said, pointing to Newkirk, "If he disappears, I promise I'll shoot you!"

After Brown had gone, Aikens moved quickly over to Newkirk, who looked like he was about to faint. "Are you okay?" he asked worriedly as he grabbed his arm to steady him, "You're as white as a sheet!"

Newkirk nodded, while forcing himself to take slow, deep breaths to keep from passing out.

Aikens watched him with concern, and as Newkirk's color began to return, he asked, "What did the lieutenant say to you?"

"Never you mind," Newkirk answered. Then he thought for a moment and said, "Did the lieutenant ever tell you about 'im bein' in prison?"

Aikens' eyes widened. "The lieutenant's been to prison? That's news to me! Is that what he told you? I don't see how he could be an officer if that's true."

"Me, either, mate. 'Ere, you can let go… I'm all right now."

"Oh, yeah," Aikens said, letting go of Newkirk's arm. "Hey, I'm sorry about the lieutenant; I mean, I knew he had a temper, but I've never seen him react like that before!"

"It's not your fault, Aikens," Newkirk replied, "Brown's crackers, he is! The sooner we take care of 'im, the better!"

Aikens eyed him nervously. "You mean; me and you?"

Newkirk shook his head. "No, me mates, what Kinch went to get... As soon as they show up, we'll take care of that bloody lieutenant."

"Well, they better hurry up, because Lieutenant Brown wants to leave as soon as possible." Aikens said, then glanced around the room, "Oh, yeah, I'm supposed to be looking for clothes for us to wear."

Just then Brown returned with a sleepy-looking Thompson. "Well," the lieutenant said to Aikens impatiently, "What did you find?"

"Oh, uh, I haven't started looking yet," Aikens replied sheepishly.

Brown rolled his eyes. "Do I have to do everything?" he huffed. "All right, I'll go pick out some clothes. Aikens, you can help me, and Thompson," he said, turning to the sergeant, "You can guard our 'guest' for awhile."

"Yes, sir," Thompson said, taking the gun from Aikens.

Brown looked back at Aikens; then raised his arm and swept it towards the door. "C'mon, let's go."

A short time later Brown and Aikens returned; both of them wearing civilian clothes they had scrounged from the farmer and his son's closets. They were carrying additional clothes in their arms, which they dumped onto the bed. "Get changed," Brown ordered, "I want to be out of here in fifteen minutes."

"Where's Rodriguez?" Thompson asked.

"He's in the other room, getting dressed." Brown eyed Thompson briefly; then glanced at the pile of clothes and picked up the shirt and pants that were lying on top. "I tried to find something that would fit you, but you're a lot bigger than that farmer, and his son." He handed the clothes to Thompson. "It'll be a tight fit, but it's still better than your uniform."

"Yes, sir," Thompson replied, and began to unbutton his shirt.

Brown picked up the other set of clothes. "Here, you can wear this," he said, holding them out to Newkirk.

"Uh, pardon me, _sir_," Newkirk replied, "But I don't think I can put those on with these ruddy things around me wrists." He raised his hands to draw attention to the cuffs.

Brown just scowled at him and dropped the clothes back onto the bed. He reached into his pocket, pulled out the key and, after walking up to him, unlocked the cuffs. Then he stepped back and pointed to the clothes. "Hurry up," he barked.

Newkirk changed as slow as he dared. He was becoming very worried that Hogan and the guys weren't going to get there in time. As he buttoned the shirt he'd just put on and tucked it into the waistband of the trousers, he desperately tried to think of some way to stall their departure, but nothing was coming to mind.

He'd barely finished when Brown approached him and slapped the cuffs back on. Then he pulled out his gun and pointed it at Newkirk. "All right, let's go," he said.

The three men left the bedroom and headed for the front room, where Rodriguez was waiting. The injured sergeant was rubbing the back of his head and wincing, and as they strode into the room, he said to Brown, "Before we go, I'm going to take a look around, and see if I can find some aspirin."

"We don't have time," Brown told him.

"Rodriguez's eyes narrowed. "Oh, I think we do, sir," he countered.

Brown sighed in frustration. "Okay, okay, just make it quick."

As Rodriguez walked away, in search of something to relieve his headache, Brown turned to Thompson. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a set of keys, and handed them to the sergeant. "Here, I found these earlier; I'm betting they're the keys to the car. Why don't you go outside, and make sure?"

"Yes, lieutenant," Thompson replied. He took the keys and headed out the door.

Brown looked back at the remaining two men in the room. "As soon as Rodriguez gets back, we're leaving."

Newkirk felt a knot forming in his stomach. He glanced over at Aikens, and could tell he was worried, too. It didn't look like the cavalry was going to come to the rescue, after all.


	9. Murphy's Law

Brown stood in the front room with Newkirk and Aikens, waiting impatiently for Rodriguez to return. "What's taking him so long?" he grumbled. He walked over to the window and peered out, trying to see if Thompson was having any luck with the car.

"Uh, Lieutenant?" Aikens piped up.

"What is it?" Brown replied irritably, turning to look at him.

"Can I go get some food to take with us? We might need it. Besides, I'm starving; I haven't eaten in a while."

Brown stared at him for a moment, frowning. At last he let out a sigh. "Oh, all right, go pack up some food. But hurry it up, will ya?"

"Yes, sir," Aikens replied, and strode off to the kitchen.

After Aikens had gone, Brown turned his gaze to Newkirk. "I bet you're hungry, too, aren't you, Corporal?" he said, eyeing him with disdain, "I suppose we're going to have to feed you; I can't have you dropping dead of hunger before we get out of Germany, can I?"

Newkirk remained silent.

Brown raised an eyebrow. "What, no witty comeback? Could it be you've finally learned how to behave yourself?"

Newkirk stared at him, his eyes narrowing; then countered with a question of his own. "You're not really a lieutenant, are you?" he asked, making it sound more like a statement than a question.

Brown's eyes opened wide. "What? Of course I'm a lieutenant!" he exclaimed, a touch of nervous surprise in his voice, "Why, did someone tell you I wasn't?" He frowned, his anger surfacing yet again. "Whoever did is lying!"

"No one told me," Newkirk replied calmly, "I figured it out on me own."

"Oh, you did, did you?" Brown walked up and stood in front of Newkirk. "And what makes you think I'm not a lieutenant?"

"For one thing, you don't act like a lieutenant, or any other kind of bloomin' officer that _I've_ seen. And for another, you said yourself you've been to prison. I can't see them makin' you an officer after that… Not even in America!"

"Well, I _am_ an officer," Brown retorted, "And don't you forget it!"

Newkirk shrugged. "Whatever you say… _Sir_."

Brown grabbed the front of Newkirk's shirt and leaned in. "I _am_ an officer!" he yelled, "And you will show me the respect I deserve!"

"Yes, sir," Newkirk didn't hesitate this time, although he'd seen something in Brown's eyes, something he'd expected to see; a flash of fear – as though Brown were hiding some big secret, and was afraid of the truth being discovered – and he inwardly smiled.

At that moment the door opened, and Thompson entered. Spying Brown with Newkirk, he walked over and said, "Need any help, Lieutenant?"

Brown glared at Newkirk for one more moment. Then he let go of his shirt and stepped back. "No, I can handle it," he replied. He looked at Thompson and asked, "So, what about the car?"

"It runs. Started right up. The keys you gave me were the right ones, sir."

Brown nodded. "Good. It's time we get out of here." He lifted his head in the direction that his other two men had gone, and yelled, "Rodriguez! Aikens! C'mon, let's go! Right now!"

Rodriguez appeared almost instantly. "But I still haven't found any aspirin," he grumbled loudly, "And my head's killing me!"

"Well, maybe they don't have any; did that ever occur to you?" Brown snapped.

"Oh, you're so smart," Rodriguez retorted. When he noticed the dark look Brown was giving him he added, "Sir."

Just then Aikens entered the room, carrying an apple in one hand, and in the other, a bundled up tablecloth tied closed at the top, stuffed with what food he was able to find that wouldn't spoil quickly. "I'm ready, sir," he said, and then took a bite out of the apple.

Brown rolled his eyes. "Well then, let's go, shall we?" he replied in a mockingly courteous voice, while sweeping his hand toward the door.

Everyone filed out of the house; Aikens bringing up the rear, as usual. Newkirk went out directly in front of him, and when the English corporal got to the door, he turned his head and flashed Aikens a look filled with worry. The American corporal reciprocated, resigning himself to the fact that no help would be coming. For now, at least, he and Newkirk were stuck with Lieutenant Brown, and whatever plan he had in mind to get them out of Germany.

When the group arrived at the car, Brown directed Aikens and Rodriguez to sit in the back, with Newkirk in between them. He took the front passenger seat, while Thompson was elected to drive. When everyone was situated, Thompson started up the car, and drove off into the night.

* * * * * * * *

Hogan, together with Kinch, Carter and LeBeau, had managed to traverse the path through the woods back to the farmhouse fairly quickly; despite Kinch needing to take a short break every so often. They were almost to the edge of the trees, when suddenly they all heard it; the sound of a car starting up in the distance. Without hesitation, the group ran up to the clearing, and arrived there just in time to see the car pulling away from the farmhouse.

"We're too late, Colonel!" Kinch exclaimed, while propping himself up against the nearest tree.

"Are you sure it was them in the car?" Carter couldn't help asking.

LeBeau frowned. "Who else would it be, Carter?"

"Well, maybe they didn't take Newkirk… Maybe he's still in the house." Carter replied, unwilling to give up hope just yet.

"There's one way to find out," Hogan said before either LeBeau or Kinch could answer, "Let's go take a look." He headed off towards the house, gesturing with a wave of his arm for them to follow.

When they got there, they noticed that the door was slightly ajar. Hogan walked up and opened it slowly, listening for any sound that might indicate a human presence inside. After being greeted by silence, he entered quietly and stopped just beyond the door, to wait for the rest of his men to join him. Then he looked at Kinch and nodded, letting him take the lead.

Kinch nodded back; then turned and walked down the hall toward the back bedroom, stepping as silently as he could. Hogan followed, with Carter and LeBeau close behind. Kinch reached the door and, grabbing the knob, pushed it open quickly, a small part of him desperately clinging to the hope that Newkirk would be there. But the room was empty, save for some uniforms tossed on the bed – one of them belonging to Newkirk.

Kinch turned to Hogan. "They're gone, sir," he said with a sigh.

Hogan walked over and picked up Newkirk's jacket. "They must have changed into civilian clothes," he remarked calmly, while inside his rage was swelling. He stared at the RAF uniform for a moment; then gripped the jacket tighter and looked at Kinch. "You said Lieutenant Brown is going to Switzerland; that means they're headed south. Once we get back to camp, I want you to contact the Underground; see if they can find them and stop them, somehow."

"What?" LeBeau interjected, "We can't go back to camp... Not without Newkirk!"

"Yeah, Colonel, we've got to get him back!" Carter exclaimed. "We can't just let those guys run off with…"

Hogan held up his hand. "And just how do you expect us to stop them?" he cut in. "They have a car, in case you hadn't noticed!"

"Well, we could…" Carter started to reply; then hesitated for a moment as that fact finally sunk in. "No, I guess we couldn't," he finished, looking defeated.

Hogan sighed. "Look, Carter, I want Newkirk back as much as you do, but we'll never be able to catch up to them now. We're gonna need the Underground's help. Besides, we've got to get back in time for roll call. It's bad enough there's going to be one 'escaped' prisoner for Klink to deal with; I don't want to make it five."

"You're right, Colonel," Carter responded.

"Oh, Colonel?" Kinch said, "The farmer and his family who live here are probably still hiding down in the cellar. I'd like to let them know it's safe for them to come out now."

"I can do that," Hogan replied. "Why don't you sit down for a few minutes and take a break? We've got a long hike ahead of us."

"Well, sir, the thing is… Otto might not open the door for you; he's not too trusting of strangers right now."

"Yeah, you're probably right." Hogan conceded. "Okay, Kinch, you can come with me."

"What about us, Colonel?" LeBeau asked.

"I want you to two to gather up all the uniforms and look through them. Maybe Brown or one of his men left something behind that will help us find out exactly where they're headed."

"Yes, sir," Carter and LeBeau replied in unison.

"Oh, Colonel, what should we do with Newkirk's uniform?" Carter added.

Hogan looked down at the blue jacket he was still gripping in his hands. He inwardly sighed; wishing, not for the first time, that they'd gotten there just a few minutes earlier. He looked up at Carter and said, "We'll take it with us. For now you can put this with the rest of his uniform." He handed the jacket to Carter; then looked at Kinch. "C'mon, let's go tell that family it's safe to come out."

After Hogan and Kinch left, Carter laid Newkirk's jacket carefully down on the bed next to his shirt and pants. "I bet Newkirk will be glad to get this back," He said to LeBeau, who was busy checking the pockets of Thompson's uniform, which had also been lying on the bed adjacent to Newkirk's.

"I'm sure he will," LeBeau replied, then mumbled under his breath, "If he doesn't get himself killed, first."

Carter turned his head and looked at LeBeau with surprise. "What's that supposed to mean?" he asked.

"Oh, come on, Carter, you know what a mouth Pierre has! After what Kinch told us about that lieutenant, do you really think he will be able to keep it shut?"

"Hey, that's not fair, Louis! Newkirk's not stupid; he's not going to say anything to make the lieutenant mad enough to…to do something like that!" Carter frowned at him; his expression a mixture of surprise and anger that LeBeau would even suggest such a thing.

LeBeau glared back for a moment, and then his face fell, and he let out a huge sigh. "Oui, I know, you're right, Carter. I'm just worried about him." He pushed the uniform over that he'd finished searching, and sat down on the bed. "Newkirk's temper does not concern me as much as the lieutenant's. Kinch said he's a real 'hot-head', remember? What if Newkirk says something to set him off without meaning to?"

Carter walked over and sat down next to LeBeau. "Well, Kinch also said that the lieutenant needs Newkirk to get out of Germany, so he'd be pretty stupid to hurt him, wouldn't he? And I'm sure we'll get Newkirk back before they even get to the border."

"You think so, mon ami?"

Carter nodded. "Yes, I do."

LeBeau looked at him, and suddenly grinned. "It's funny, isn't it? I was so sure before that we would find Newkirk, and you were so worried we wouldn't. And now…"

Carter grinned back. "Well, that's how it's supposed to work, isn't it? I mean, if we both worry at the same time, who's going to cheer us up?"

LeBeau smiled wide. "André, sometimes, you are a very smart man." he said; then he stood up and headed for the door. "Come on; let's go find the rest of the uniforms."

Carter got up to follow, and as he approached the door, a puzzled look crossed his face, and he called out loudly, "What do you mean, sometimes?"

* * * * * * * *

"So, where do you want me to go, sir?" Thompson asked Lieutenant Brown as the car connected with the main road.

"Just head south for now," Brown replied, "And try to avoid any large cities we come to."

"What? Are you barmy?" Newkirk piped up from the back seat. "You can't get to Switzerland without goin' through a few big cities… Unless you're thinkin' of bloody walkin' through Germany, that is!"

Brown swiveled his head to look at Newkirk. "No one asked you!" He snapped.

They'd barely gone half a mile, when suddenly there was a loud 'POP', and the car began to swerve. Thompson was able to guide the vehicle to the shoulder, and when it came to a stop, everyone silently breathed a sigh of relief.

"What was that?" Brown asked; the first to vocalize the question that was on all of their minds.

"I think we've got a flat tire," Thompson answered.

"Oh, for crying out loud!" Brown exclaimed angrily. He grabbed the handle and, as he pushed the door open, turned his head to look at the rest of the occupants of the car. "Well, what are you all waiting for? C'mon, let's go, everyone out of the car, right now! Thompson here has a tire to change."

The men did as they were told. When they were all out, Brown pulled out his gun and pointed it at Newkirk. "Don't get any ideas, Corporal," he told him, "I'm a pretty good shot."

Newkirk glared at him. "And just what is it you think I'm goin' to do with these ruddy cuffs on me wrists?"

"Don't get smart with me; I'm warning you!"

"Uh, lieutenant?" Thompson had opened the trunk of the car and was peering inside, "I think we have a problem."

Brown rolled his eyes. "What now?" He called back.

"There's no spare tire in here."

The air itself seemed to hold its breath in anticipation of Brown's next exclamation. It didn't have to wait long.

"WHAT?"

Thompson swallowed hard. "There's no spare tire, sir. We're either going to have to walk, or go back to the house and see if that farmer has a spare somewhere around there."

Brown's face instantly turned red with fury, and he looked like he was about to explode. "What is wrong with these people? Who drives a car without a spare in the trunk? Dammit! This whole night has been going from bad to worse!"

"Maybe someone's tryin' to tell you somethin'," Newkirk said quietly.

That was all it took to send Brown over the edge. He stuffed his gun back into his belt, strode up to Newkirk and punched him in the face so hard that the Englishman lost his balance and fell to the ground; landing hard on his knees and falling forward, catching himself with his hands just in time to keep from doing a face plant into the dirt.

"SHUT UP!" Brown practically screamed at him; then drew his foot back and kicked Newkirk hard in his side.

Newkirk, who was still on his hands and knees when Brown's foot connected with him, let out a cry of pain and fell over on his other side. He instinctively curled into a ball, to protect himself from Brown's next assault.

Brown raised his foot again and was about to swing it, when suddenly Aikens yelled, "Stop it!"

Brown hesitated for a brief moment; then he put his foot back down, whirled around, and in two strides, was standing in front of Aikens. He grabbed him by the front of his shirt, raised his fist and yelled, "You want some of this, Corporal? Do you?"

"No, sir," Aikens squeaked out, shrinking back.

Brown glowered at him, his eyes filling with suspicion. "It was you, wasn't it? You helped Sergeant Kinchloe escape!"

Aikens shook his head vigorously. "No, sir! I didn't; I swear!"

"Tell me the truth!"

"He _is_ tellin' you the truth," Newkirk's voice floated up from the ground where he lay, "_I_'_m_ the one, what told Kinch to take off when Aikens went to check up on Rodriguez." As he talked, he noticed his bottom lip was stinging, and he felt something wet on his face. He reached up and wiped his mouth, and when he brought his hand back down, it was smeared with blood.

Brown glanced at Newkirk, and then looked back at Aikens. He glared at the American corporal for a moment longer before he finally let go of his shirt and stepped back. Then he turned and walked back to Newkirk. "Get up!" he barked at him.

Newkirk hesitantly began to straighten himself out, half expecting to feel the toe of Brown's shoe sink into his flesh again. When it didn't, he slowly sat up, wincing from the pain in his side. He started to get to his feet, when his knees suddenly protested. He groaned loudly and started to sink back down to the ground, but Brown grabbed his arm and roughly yanked him up the rest of the way. Newkirk grit his teeth from the pain, but he managed to stay on his feet, even after Brown let go of him.

Brown, his rage spent, just stared at Newkirk for a moment. "I'm going to be very glad when I'm done with you, you know," he said at last.

"The feelin's mutual…_Sir_," Newkirk replied curtly as he reached up and gingerly touched his swollen, aching jaw.

"Uh, Lieutenant?" Thompson called out, "Shouldn't we be getting out of here?"

Brown looked over at him with annoyance. "Yes, yes," he answered, "But we still need to decide which way we're going."

"Well, we're going south, aren't we, sir?"

"I know we're going south, Thompson! I meant, are we gonna walk from here, or go back to the house and look for a spare tire?"

"Well, I vote we go back to the house," Rodriguez piped up, "I ain't walking all the way out of Germany! Besides, maybe I can find that aspirin."

Brown appeared to contemplate it for a bit; then he stared at Newkirk. "So, tell me, Corporal… Was your Sergeant friend planning to return, by any chance? Maybe bring some more of your friends with him?"

Newkirk shrugged. "'Ow should I know?"

"Well, even if he was," Rodriguez said, "It would take him hours to get back. It'll take us, what, ten minutes to walk there, and maybe five or ten minutes to find the tire. We'll be long gone by the time Sergeant Kinchloe returns."

Brown thought for another minute, and then finally made his decision.

"All right, we'll go back to the house."


	10. Never judge a book by its cover

"Well, that's the last of 'em, Louis," Carter said as he finished searching the pockets of the sergeant's jacket he was holding. He tossed it onto the pile of uniforms on the bed; careful to make sure Newkirk's uniform remained separate from the rest.

"Did you find anything?" LeBeau asked.

"Nope, nothing. Guess they must have taken everything with them."

Just then they heard noises coming from the front of the house, and knew that Hogan and Kinch had returned from the cellar. They left the bedroom and headed down the hall in the direction of the front room.

"Here they come, now," Carter and LeBeau heard Kinch say in German as they entered the room.

Hogan was standing next to Kinch, and they were both facing the family that the sergeant had successfully coaxed out of the room in the cellar; although it had taken a bit longer when they'd caught sight of Hogan. But Kinch had convinced them that he was a good guy, and since they trusted Kinch, they'd decided to trust the American colonel.

Otto's eyes filled with apprehension when he saw the French corporal and American sergeant appear, and he instinctively drew his wife Gretchen and daughter-in-law Odette a little closer.

Noting Otto's nervousness, Kinch said in a calm, soothing voice, "It's all right, they're not going to hurt you. We just want to get our friend back."

"Your English friend, yes?" Otto uttered.

Kinch nodded. "Yes, that's right."

"He is not here?" Otto glanced briefly around the room.

Worry flashed across Kinch's eyes. "No, he's not."

Otto noticed Kinch's concern, looked at the makeshift bandage wrapped around his arm, and he couldn't contain his questions any longer. "Please, Sergeant, can you tell us what is going on? Who were those other men? Why were they here? What happened after your friend helped us get down to the room in the cellar? We heard a gunshot; and so much yelling…"

Kinch held up his hand and smiled. "How about I take those one at a time?" He replied; then went on to explain as much as he could to Otto and his family about what had occurred while they'd been safely sequestered below. In the meantime, Hogan directed LeBeau to keep a look out at the door, and sent Carter to the back bedroom to retrieve Newkirk's uniform. By the time Kinch was through filling Otto and his family in, Carter had returned, and Hogan was flashing all of them a _time to go_ look.

"So, those terrible men stole my car, and took your friend with them." Otto said, looking at Kinch thoughtfully. Then a gleam appeared in his eye. "Something tells me they won't get far."

"Why do you say that?" Hogan asked, joining in on the conversation.

"Let's just say one of the tires needs repairs." Otto smiled.

Carter's eyebrows shot up. "Hey," he said in English, "Maybe we can catch up to them after all!"

Hogan slowly shook his head. "I don't think so. They still probably have a good lead on us, and if we don't start back for camp soon, we're gonna miss roll call."

Otto looked at Kinch questioningly.

"They're talking about trying to catch up with the car," Kinch explained.

Otto's eyes narrowed. "Do you all speak German? That _is_ very strange…"

Kinch smiled. "We took a class together."

Before Otto could reply, LeBeau called out from the door, "Colonel, I see some men walking toward the house!"

"What?" Hogan exclaimed and hurried over to the door.

LeBeau stepped aside to let Hogan peer out the small opening in the door. "So there are," Hogan muttered, "And it looks like there's five of them." He turned around and looked at Kinch. "You better get them back downstairs," He said, glancing briefly at Otto and his family, "I think the Lieutenant and his men have returned."

"Yes, sir," Kinch replied, and turned back to Otto. "The bad guys are coming back. I think you all better go back downstairs to that room… Now!"

Otto's eyes flew wide, as did Gretchen's and Odette's. They turned and headed for the door to the cellar, Otto gesturing to the women to go first. Just before the farmer climbed down the stairs, he shot a grateful look at Kinch, and then he was gone.

As soon as the family had left, Carter piped up excitedly, "Is Newkirk with them?"

LeBeau, who had gone back to monitoring the door, replied, "I can't tell."

"Here, let me look," Kinch said as he strode up to the door. LeBeau moved out of the way, and Kinch peeked out in the direction of the group approaching the house. He spotted Rodriguez in the lead, and exclaimed, "It's them, Colonel! I can make out Rodriguez and Thompson…and there's Lieutenant Brown…and… Yes, I see him! It's Newkirk! He's a little farther behind, and it looks like Aikens is helping him."

Hogan felt his anger rising; slamming into him like an internal tidal wave; there was only one reason Newkirk would need help walking. As Kinch kept watch at the door, Hogan looked at his other two men and said, "Okay, I'm sure I don't have to tell you that we've got to take care of these guys, and get Newkirk back." He reached down and pulled out the gun he was carrying from where he'd tucked it into his belt, and nodded at Carter and LeBeau to do the same. "Hopefully we won't need to use these; I'd like to take them all alive…especially Brown." His eyes flashed darkly when he mentioned the Lieutenant.

LeBeau and Carter nodded grimly.

"Here they come, Colonel," Kinch stated; then turned his head to look at Hogan. "They're almost to the house, and it looks like they're headed straight for it."

Hogan nodded. "Then let's get ready."

* * * * * * * *

"Aren't we there, yet?" Brown complained as they trudged back to the farmhouse. "We've been walking for ten minutes, already!"

"I'm sure we're close, sir," Thompson piped up from his position just ahead of the lieutenant.

"Yeah," Rodriguez added, who was in the lead, "We should see the house any minute, now."

Newkirk and Aikens were lagging behind; mostly because Newkirk was having a hard time keeping up. His knees hurt, his side ached, his head was throbbing from the previous beating, and his face felt like a hundred Flamenco dancers had decided to use it for practice. He took another step and stumbled, and was surprised to feel an arm wrap around his waist from behind. He glanced to his right, already knowing it had to be Aikens.

"Here, let me help you," Aikens said as he gripped Newkirk a little tighter to steady him.

"Thanks," Newkirk replied, leaning on the American corporal.

They'd gone a few more steps before Aikens whispered to him, "Thanks for lying for me back there."

Newkirk glanced at him. Then he whispered back, "Thanks for gettin' that bloody loony off me."

Aikens didn't say anything for a few moments. At last he replied, "I'm sorry, Newkirk, I should have told him the truth…"

Brown turned his head to look behind him at the straggling pair. "Less talking, more walking!" he yelled.

A few more minutes went by, when, at last, they could see the house in the distance.

"Finally!" Brown exclaimed, unconsciously quickening his pace.

The rest of the men walked a little faster to keep up; all except Newkirk and Aikens.

Rodriguez was nearing the building, Brown right behind him, when suddenly Brown stopped, calling out, "Hold it!" to the sergeant in front of him.

Rodriguez stopped and turned around. "What's wrong?" he asked, impatiently.

"I don't know… Something doesn't feel right," Brown answered.

Rodriguez sighed in frustration. "What are you talking about?"

"I just have this feeling, all right?"

"Oh, you're just being paranoid, as usual!"

"What's_ that_ supposed to mean?" Brown replied angrily.

By now, Newkirk and Aikens had caught up to them, and Thompson was hovering close by, looking uncomfortably at the two men who were arguing.

"It means that you've been like this since we busted out of that prison camp," Rodriguez chided Brown, "Why don't you just give it a rest!"

"Why don't you shut your mouth!"

"You two keep yellin' like that, and you're goin' to ruddy bring the nearest German patrol down on us!" Newkirk hissed loudly.

"He's right, sir," Aikens quickly added when he saw Brown turn to look at Newkirk; the lieutenant's eyes blazing with anger, "And they'll probably shoot us!" The image of his fellow crewmen being arbitrarily shot in front of him suddenly appeared in his mind, and his heart started pounding faster.

"They're not gonna shoot us," Brown replied, scowling at Aikens.

"They might, sir, I've…seen them do it before…" Aikens swallowed hard, his fear was rapidly escalating. He glanced furtively back and forth; then blurted out, "We've got to get out of here, now!"

"He has a point, sir," Thompson said, "About a patrol hearing us, I mean. Maybe we should go look for that spare, so we can get back to the car and get out of Germany, like we planned."

"What, now you're all ganging up on me, is that it?" Brown glanced around and glared at each of them. At last he heaved a sigh and said, "All right, all right! Let's go check the house. Maybe that spare is in the cellar, and if it isn't, I'm gonna find a way to open that room down there and make that farmer tell me where it is!"

* * * * * * * *

"What's going on out there, Kinch?" Hogan asked the sergeant who was at the door, peering out the small opening, "I hear a lot of yelling. Are they still coming towards the house?"

"They're just standing there at the moment, Colonel," Kinch answered, "The lieutenant seems to be very upset about something… Oh, it looks like he's done now, and, yes, they're starting to walk this way again."

"Okay, everyone, get ready…"

* * * * * * * *

Rodriguez reached the door first. He noticed it was open just a little bit, and looked back at Aikens. "Didn't you shut the door when we left?" He asked him.

"Um, no, I don't think I shut it all the way," Aikens replied. In truth, he couldn't remember for sure; he just wanted to get inside as quickly as possible.

Rodriguez rolled his eyes, and then he pushed the door open and entered. Thompson was next, followed by Brown, Newkirk, and, lastly, Aikens.

"Everything seems pretty quiet in here," Rodriguez remarked, "Just like we left it."

As if on cue, Hogan, Carter, and LeBeau leaped out of their hiding places; each man aiming his gun at one of Newkirk's captors. Kinch, who had been behind the door when it opened, slammed it shut and stood in front of it, blocking their exit. Brown and his two sergeants began to reach for their guns, but Hogan and his men quickly raised theirs.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Hogan stated firmly, clicking the safety off his gun. LeBeau and Carter did the same.

Brown and his men froze; all of them noting the deadly serious look in Hogan's eyes.

"Now take your guns out – slowly – and put them on the floor," Hogan ordered.

As the three men started to comply, a huge smile broke out on Newkirk's face. "Blimey, am I 'appy to see you, Colonel!"

Hogan glanced at Newkirk and inwardly winced when he caught sight of his face; it was covered with bruises, and his bottom lip was swollen and bloody. He was about to reply, when, with lightning speed, Brown grabbed Newkirk's arm and yanked the corporal in front of him; while simultaneously raising his gun and jamming it against Newkirk's head.

Kinch, who was the closest, immediately lunged at Brown, but the lieutenant managed to side-step away from him, dragging Newkirk with him. Thompson went after Kinch, while Rodriguez hurled himself at a surprised Carter. LeBeau instinctively raced over to help Carter, while Hogan stood there, trying to get a clear shot at Brown. Aikens, meanwhile, had stepped back and plastered himself against the wall in an obvious attempt to stay out of the way.

Suddenly the sound of a gunshot ripped through the room, causing the struggling men to stop and look towards the source of the noise. Brown had apparently fired his gun at the ceiling to get their attention, judging by the bullet imbedded in it just above his head, and now had it once again pointed at Newkirk.

"All of you; stop right now, or I'll put a bullet in your English friend's head!" Brown yelled.

Thinking quickly, Carter grabbed Rodriguez's gun and aimed it at him, noticing that Kinch had been able to snatch Thompson's gun away from him, as well, and was pointing it at the big sergeant.

"You do, and your men are going to get it!" Hogan shot back, glancing at Carter and Kinch while nodding slightly. Then he returned his gaze to Brown and glared at him.

Brown shrugged his shoulders. "Go ahead," he replied casually, "I can find other men to help me… I'm rich, after all." He looked first at Rodriguez, and then at Thompson, and smiled. "People will do anything for money, won't they?" Then he began to edge toward the door, pulling Newkirk with him. "I think I'll keep this one with me, though," he said, "At least until I get out of Germany. Never hurts to have an insurance policy."

"What?" Rodriguez shouted, "You're just going to leave us with these guys?"

"What can I say?" Brown replied, "Rank has its privileges."

"Oh, don't give me that!" Rodriguez exclaimed angrily, "We both know you're not even an officer!"

Brown's eyes briefly flashed with fear and surprise, but he quickly recovered. "I don't know what you're talking about; of course I'm an officer!"

"Oh, come on! I know who you really are… You really want me to tell everyone?"

"Go ahead! It doesn't make any difference now, does it?" Brown snorted.

"Fine!" Rodriguez snapped. "In case you're interested," he said, glancing around the room at the faces staring at him, "His name isn't Brown, it's Jackson… Private Jackson. Lieutenant Brown was one of the pilots on his plane when they got shot down, and he didn't make it. So Jackson here decided to masquerade as the lieutenant; not only to get treated better, but because he knows about Brown's bank account in Switzerland."

Silence descended on the room for several moments, as everyone digested the new information. At last Thompson looked at the man he'd been following all this time, confusion written all over his face. "So, you're not a lieutenant?" he asked.

"What difference does it make?" Jackson responded, "I can get Brown's money out of his account; that's what matters!" He took another step toward the door. "And now, if you'll excuse me, gentlemen… It's time for us to go." He let go of Newkirk's arm and reached behind him to grab the doorknob, keeping his gun pressed firmly against the Englishman's head.

Aikens, who had made himself virtually invisible during the scuffle by pressing himself against the wall, suddenly leaped at Jackson, grabbing the arm that held the gun and jerking it away from Newkirk. As Aikens attempted to take the gun from him, Hogan strode quickly up to Jackson; while Newkirk, seeing the look in the colonel's eyes, stepped out of the way.

Jackson gave Aikens a big shove, and just as he pulled his arm away from the corporal, Hogan grabbed him by the front of his shirt, drew his arm back, and punched him in the face as hard as he could; his fist connecting solidly with Jackson's jaw. Jackson fell backwards against the door, inadvertently letting the gun fall from his hand, which was quickly snatched up by Aikens.

Jackson slumped against the door, looking dazed. Hogan, his fury still running high, took hold of the private's shirt once again, and raised his fist for another blow. He was about to swing his arm when he heard Newkirk's voice next to him, and paused.

"No, Colonel, let me! I'll bloody sort 'im out!"

Hogan realized at that moment he was about to beat up a defenseless man, and as much as he knew Jackson deserved it, it wasn't his way. He forcibly reigned in his temper and lowered his arm. "No, Newkirk, it's over," He stated, letting go of Jackson's shirt and pushing him back against the door, with a little more force than necessary. "He'll get what's coming to him, and so will his friends, when they get back to London." Hogan was still looking at Jackson, and now a small, satisfied smile appeared on his face and he said, "Hope you like prison; you're going to be there for a long, long time."

"He should; he's been there before," Newkirk quipped.

"Why am I not surprised?" Hogan responded.

Kinch, who had just taken a quick glance at his watch, now spoke up. "Uh, Colonel? I think we better be heading back soon."

Hogan raised his arm and took a peek at his own watch. "You're absolutely right, Kinch." He agreed, and looked back at Jackson. "All right, Private, hand over the key to the handcuffs…slowly."

"And me lock picks," Newkirk piped up.

"And his lock picks," Hogan repeated. When Jackson had done so, Hogan turned and handed Newkirk's picks to him, and unlocked the cuffs on his wrists.

Newkirk grinned and rubbed his wrists. "Blimey, it feels good to be rid of those ruddy things!"

"I'm sure it does," Hogan smiled back. Then he looked at Carter. "Carter, I want you to go get the uniforms from the back bedroom and bring them in here."

"Yes, sir," Carter replied, handing his gun to LeBeau before heading off down the hall.

"After everyone has changed, we'll head back to camp," Hogan stated.

"Should I let Otto and his family know we're leaving, Colonel?" Kinch asked.

"Oh, yes, that's a good idea, Kinch. You can tell them just before we leave. And if they have any questions, here's what I want you to tell them…"

As Hogan was conversing with Kinch, Newkirk happened to glance at Aikens, and noticed that the corporal was looking very nervous. He walked over to him and asked quietly, "Why so worried, chum? We're safe, now."

"What's going to happen to me?" Aikens replied, his voice trembling slightly, "I…I don't want to go to prison."

Newkirk smiled and put his arm around Aikens' shoulders. "'Ere, now, don't you worry about that, mate; me and Kinch will put in a good word for you. Why, if it 'adn't been for you, we'd be on our way out of Germany right now, with that sorry sod over there." He nodded in Jackson's direction. "You know, come to think of it, you're the one, what saved the day!"

"You really think so?" Aikens said, desperately wanting to believe him.

"Yes, I do," Newkirk answered sincerely.

Just then Carter returned carrying an armload of uniforms. He walked over and dumped them on the sofa; then picked up the top one, which was Newkirk's, and brought it over to the Englishman. "Here you go, Newkirk. I bet you're glad to have this back!"

"I sure am, Carter," Newkirk smiled wide at him.

"Okay, you, Rodriguez," Hogan said, pointing to the sergeant, "Go get those uniforms and hand them out. Then I want you all to get dressed quickly; we've got a long walk ahead of us, and we need to get started."

"More walking!" Jackson mumbled under his breath, "Oh, I just knew we shouldn't have come back here!"

Newkirk heard him, and inwardly chuckled.


	11. Taking care of business

A/N: I'd like to thank everyone so much for their reviews! And sorry it took so long for me to get this last chapter up; RL has been keeping me busy this week. Anyway, here's the conclusion; enjoy!

* * *

Hogan glanced around the room one last time, making sure everyone was ready to go. Jackson and his men, and Newkirk, had changed back into their uniforms, the civilian clothes that they'd been wearing earlier were now heaped in a pile on the sofa, and Kinch had just returned from informing the family that they were leaving.

"Okay, let's go," Hogan said as he motioned for the men to start moving. As Jackson's turn approached to exit out the door, Hogan stopped him. "Hold out your hands," he ordered.

"What for?" Jackson asked suspiciously.

Hogan scowled at him. "Just do it."

Jackson had no choice but to comply. As soon as he held up his hands, Hogan pulled out the handcuffs and slapped them on the Private's wrists.

"Hey, what did you do that for?" Jackson exclaimed.

"A little added security," Hogan informed him. He wasn't about to take any chances.

As they started their hike back to camp, Carter and LeBeau kept a careful eye – and aim – on Jackson, Rodriguez and Thompson. Aikens walked next to Newkirk, helping him navigate the path, reaching out to lend a hand every so often when the Englishman stumbled. Kinch was keeping abreast of Hogan, and the two were conversing with each other, keeping their voices low when they spoke. The last thing they needed was a German patrol showing up.

"So, what did you tell Otto back there at the house?" Hogan asked Kinch quietly.

"What you told me to tell him, sir," Kinch whispered back, "That we got shot down and were trying to escape, when we ran into those bad guys. I also told him that we'd make sure those guys never bothered them again, and we'd appreciate it if they'd forget they ever saw us."

"What did Otto say?"

"He said he'd never seen us before in his life, and smiled at me."

"So, he's not going to try to turn us in?"

"No, sir, I don't think so. He seemed pretty grateful for us protecting him, Gretchen and Odette, from Brown – er, I mean – Jackson and his men. Besides," added Kinch, "They don't even know our names. Uh, except for mine, sir. Jackson mentioned it in front of them."

Hogan shook his head slightly. "He really is an idiot, isn't he?"

Kinch smiled. "Yes, sir!"

The group continued their trek through the woods, making fairly good time despite Newkirk and Kinch's conditions. Jackson grumbled loudly a few times, but after several pokes from LeBeau's gun and some choice words hissed to him in French, he gave up and kept quiet. At last they neared the hollowed-out tree stump entrance, and when Jackson and his men got over their initial shock, Hogan directed Carter to climb down first, followed by Newkirk and Aikens. Kinch went next, and then Jackson and his remaining two men descended into the tunnel; Hogan and LeBeau covering them from above, while Carter and Kinch did the same from below. At last LeBeau and Hogan climbed down to the tunnel, and the group moved into the main area, underneath the barracks.

"All right," Hogan said, glancing at each man as he addressed him, "Carter, grab some chairs and some rope and bring them back here. LeBeau, when Carter gets back, you can help him tie these guys up," he made a sweeping motion with his hand to indicate Jackson, Rodriguez, and Thompson. "And Newkirk, I want you and Kinch to go sit down; you both look like you're about to drop."

"Yes, sir," the two men replied gratefully; then went over to the bench next to the tunnel wall and plopped down on it.

Carter returned and set up the chairs. Hogan removed the handcuffs from Jackson, and gestured to their three prisoners to take a seat. Once they complied, Carter and LeBeau proceeded to tie them securely to the chairs.

"Hey, what about Aikens?" Jackson asked as LeBeau finished knotting the rope around his arms, "How come you're not tying him up?"

"Because he helped my men stop you," Hogan replied tersely, allowing his anger to rise now that they were safely back at camp. He glanced at his watch and, noting they still had twenty minutes until roll call, looked at Jackson. "Suppose you tell me, Private… What the hell you were thinking, kidnapping my men?"

"I only needed one of them," Jackson shot back, "Just to get out of Germany. I was going to let him go when I was through with him."

Hogan glared at him. "Do you know how much trouble you're in? Impersonating an officer, kidnapping, attempted murder…"

"Hey, I never tried to kill anyone!"

Kinch cleared his throat to get Jackson's attention, and lifted his right arm slightly.

Jackson rolled his eyes. "I wasn't trying to kill you, you know," he told Kinch, "I was just trying to stop the fight."

"… Assault," Hogan continued, glancing at Newkirk and back to Jackson, "And of course, desertion, which is a hangable offense."

"Hmpf! They're not going to hang me!" Jackson replied, but there was a hint of fear in his voice as the severity of what he'd done started to sink in.

"And you, Rodriguez," Hogan turned to the sergeant, "You knew he wasn't a lieutenant, and you went along with him, anyway?"

"Hey, a million dollars is a lot of money," Rodriguez answered.

"How did you know he wasn't Lieutenant Brown?" Hogan asked.

"There was a kid in the POW camp we were in, that knew some of the guys in Jackson's unit. So, when Jackson showed up pretending to be Lieutenant Brown, he recognized him right away. When he confronted him, Jackson threatened to kill him if he told anyone." Rodriguez shrugged. "I just happened to overhear their conversation."

"And you didn't tell me?" Thompson exclaimed angrily. "So all this time, I've been following a private!" He turned and glared at Jackson. "Just wait until I can get my hands on you…" He said in a low, threatening voice, while tugging at his restraints.

"Hey, I wasn't always a private," Jackson replied defensively. "I used to be a sergeant, until those rotten Brits in that pub back in London decided to pick a fight with me."

"From what _I_ heard, you're the one who started it," Rodriguez said.

"I did not start it! And even if I did, they deserved it! I shouldn't have been busted down to private, in any case."

"So, when were you in prison?" Aikens asked.

"What?" Jackson turned his attention to the American corporal, "Who told you I was in prison?"

"You said so, yourself, remember?" Newkirk called out from his seat by the tunnel wall.

Jackson scowled at him. "It was a long time ago, before I joined the Army, and… It's none of your business!"

"Oh, you're just a pillar of the community, aren't you?" Hogan replied in disgust. "Tell me, how did you happen to take Lieutenant Brown's place?"

Jackson just glared at Hogan for a moment. At last he said, "After we crashed, I found the Lieutenant lying on the ground. He was wounded pretty badly, and I knew he wasn't going to make it. So as soon as he died, I just switched places with him."

Hogan leaned against the table behind him and folded his arms. "How do I know you didn't kill him?"

"I didn't kill him!" Jackson shouted, "He bled to death from his wounds. There was nothing I could do."

"Did you try?"

"Why bother? He was a goner, anyway."

Hogan shook his head. "You're a real piece of work, you know that, Jackson?"

"And you're just some high-paid, brown-nosing colonel who probably made your way up the chain of command the old fashioned way; on your knees…"

Jackson never got to finish his comment. A flash of blue shot past Hogan, and the next thing the private knew, there was a fist connecting with his face. His head snapped to the side, and something small and white flew out of his mouth, landing a short distance away on the tunnel floor. He blinked several times, more from surprise and shock than pain, and when he finally turned his head back to see what had hit him, Newkirk was standing in front of him, breathing hard, his hands clenched tightly into fists.

"You shut your ruddy mouth!" Newkirk yelled.

Hogan walked up and put his hand on the Englishman's shoulder. "Easy there, Newkirk," he said, "He'll get what's coming to him soon enough."

Carter glanced over at the object on the floor near Jackson. His eyes widened as he exclaimed, "Boy, Newkirk, you knocked a tooth right out of his mouth!"

"Couldn't have done it any better, myself," Kinch piped up, grinning. "Peter, I'll make a boxer out of you, yet."

"Now, _that_ I would have to see to believe!" LeBeau teased; then he checked his watch and added, "It's almost time for roll call, Colonel."

Hogan nodded. "All right. Time to get upstairs, gentlemen." He looked at Aikens, scrutinizing him for a moment. At last he said, "Think you can watch these guys 'til we get back?"

Aikens swallowed hard. "Me, sir?" he asked, surprised.

"Sure, Aikens, I trust you." Hogan flashed him a smile. Then he handed him a gun and said, "We should be back in about an hour. And then we'll make arrangements to get you all back to London." He walked over to the ladder, and after the last of his men was topside, he headed up himself, closing the false-bottom bunk behind him.

* * * * * * * *

"Raus, raus, everyone outside for roll call!" Schultz bellowed loudly as he entered the barracks, trying to be heard over the grumbling men inside. "Let's go, schnell!"

"Take it easy, Schultzie; we're rausin'," Newkirk replied irritably.

"Yeah, Schultz, cut us some slack, will you?" Kinch said, "We've been up all night."

Schultz, who had been watching the progress of the men on the other side of the room, turned to look at Newkirk and Kinch. "Couldn't you sleep?" he asked, and sucked in his breath when he caught sight of Newkirk's face. "Newkirk! What happened to you?" Then he noticed the arm of Kinch's jacket; it had two holes in it, and the small openings were tinged with red. "Kinch, your arm…it looks like…" His eyes grew wide; then they narrowed and he waggled his finger at them. "Oh, you've been up to some monkey business, haven't you?" he scolded.

"Well, actually Schultz, we…" Kinch started, but Schultz held up his hand and closed his eyes tightly.

"No, don't tell me, I don't want to know. I see nothing!"

"Suit yourself, Schultzie," Newkirk said, a big smirk on his face. Then he and Kinch joined the rest of the men who were filing out of the barracks.

The wait for Colonel Klink to appear seemed endless. Finally the door to his office opened, and the Kommandant strode briskly across the compound, yelling, "Repoooort!"

"All present and accounted for, Kommandant," Schultz replied.

"Very well, Schultz," Klink said, and turned to look at the prisoners. "Now, I'm sure you are all aware that it is getting colder, so I have decided to… Newkirk! What happened to your face?"

Newkirk flashed Klink his best, _who, me?_ expression. "What's that, sir?"

"Your face, Corporal; it's covered in bruises." A light bulb went on in Klink's head, and he said, "You've been fighting, haven't you?" Then he looked at Hogan. "Colonel Hogan, you know I do not allow fighting in the barracks. This man is getting thirty days in the cooler!"

"Now, wait a minute, Kommandant!" Hogan exclaimed, "Newkirk hasn't been fighting. He fell out of bed and hit his face on the table."

Klink scowled and glanced at Newkirk; then back at Hogan. "You expect me to believe that, Hogan?"

"It's true, sir," LeBeau piped up from his position on the other side of Newkirk, "You should see the table!"

"Hmpf! Hogan, you need to take better care of your men."

"Yes, sir. Anything else?"

"No, you're dismiss… Oh, wait, Hogan, there is one thing. I've decided that you may start selecting groups of men to go out on wood chopping detail. I will let the prisoners keep twenty-five percent of the wood."

"What? Kommandant, there's no way I'm going to let you use my men to chop wood for you."

"All right, thirty percent."

Hogan smiled. "Make it fifty percent."

"Forty percent, and that's my final offer!"

"Forty-five?"

Klink shook his head.

"All right, sir, forty percent."

Klink smirked at him. "There, you see, Hogan? That wasn't so hard."

"Yes, sir. Can we go now?"

"Oh, yes, yes, you are dismissed." Klink turned and walked back to his office, while the prisoners shuffled back into the barracks.

As soon as they got back inside, Hogan turned to Newkirk and Kinch. "I want you two to climb into your bunks and get some rest. I'm going to have Wilson check you out. Carter," he said, looking at the sergeant, "Go get Wilson and bring him back here, then I want you to join me down below."

"Yes, sir," Carter replied, and took off to find Sergeant Wilson.

Hogan went down to the tunnel, and was relieved to see everything as they'd left it. "Looks like you've got everything under control, Aikens," he said.

"Traitor!" Jackson muttered under his breath.

"You know, unless you want to lose a few more teeth, I'd suggest you shut up," Hogan said to him.

Jackson just glared back at him.

Hogan turned his attention back to the corporal. "So, Aikens, I hear you're not too excited about going back to London."

Aikens glanced down, studying the floor for a moment. Then he looked up at Hogan. "Well, sir, I just didn't want to be reassigned to another unit, and have to fly missions over Germany again."

Hogan nodded. "Yes, Kinch told me what happened to you. Believe it or not, I do understand." He paused for a moment, and then continued. "Still, what you did is very serious. You do realize that, don't you?"

Aikens hung his head. "Yes, sir, I do. And I'm willing to accept whatever punishment they give me when we get back."

"Then again, you did help Kinch escape so he could find us, and you stopped Jackson from leaving with Newkirk. I'd say that counts for something."

Aikens' head shot up. "Sir?" he said, looking at Hogan; his expression a mixture of surprise and hope.

Hogan reached up and placed his hand on the corporal's shoulder. "Tell you what, Aikens; I can probably get you off the hook with London, and have them reassign you… Maybe put you in an administrative job. That would keep you from having to go on any more missions."

Aikens' jaw dropped. "You…you'd do that for me, sir?"

"After what you did for Kinch and Newkirk, I owe you one," Hogan smiled at him.

Aikens appeared to think it over for several moments. At last he said, "Thanks, Colonel; that means a lot to me. But I've decided that I'd rather get reassigned. I want to fight."

Hogan was taken aback. "Are you sure?" he asked.

Aikens nodded. "I'm sure, sir. After seeing what you and your men are risking by helping people like me, I want to do my part to help end this war."

Hogan clapped him on the back. "Good man. I knew I could count on you."

Aikens smiled. "I won't let you down, sir."

"I'm sure you won't." Hogan answered.

* * * * * * * *

Hogan was able to make arrangements for the next night to have Jackson, Rodriguez, Thompson and Aikens escorted out to meet with the sub that would take them to England. He'd been able to enlist the aid of a few Underground members to help, so there would be no possibility of Jackson or his men escaping.

As the time neared for them to leave, Hogan went down to join his men in the tunnel, who were already there; getting the four travelers ready. Kinch, Newkirk and LeBeau had their guns aimed at Jackson and the two sergeants, while Carter and Aikens were untying them from their chairs. When the men had been freed, Hogan nodded to Kinch, who passed his gun over to Aikens.

"Okay, I'm gonna go over the plan one more time," Hogan said. "Carter, LeBeau, you'll take these guys out the emergency exit, and meet up with Karl, Gunter and Fritz, who will be waiting for you at the abandoned barn about a mile east of here. Aikens, you can help cover them; if any of these guys try to escape, shoot to kill; got it?"

"Yes, sir," Aikens replied.

"Carter, LeBeau, once you pass them over to Karl and his men, they'll take them to rendezvous with the sub." Hogan then looked at Jackson. "A word of advice, Private, I wouldn't try anything if I were you; Karl and Gunter are both bigger and stronger than Thompson, here, and all three of them are crack shots."

Jackson glared at Hogan, but, for once, wisely kept his mouth shut.

Just before they headed out, Aikens turned to Kinch and Newkirk. He gazed at them for a moment, trying to find the words. At last he said, "Thanks, guys, for putting in a good word for me."

Kinch smiled. "Thanks for helping us take care of Jackson."

"Yeah, we couldn't 'ave done it without you, mate." Newkirk added. He stuck his hand out and, when Aikens reached up to clasp it, he shook the American corporal's hand firmly.

Kinch reached out and shook his hand, also. Then Aikens approached Hogan. He brought himself to attention and crisply saluted. Hogan returned the salute, and Aikens dropped his hand.

"Thank you, Colonel Hogan, for giving me a second chance."

"You're welcome, Corporal Aikens. And, good luck."

Aikens smiled. "Good luck to you, sir." Then he turned and walked up to join Carter and LeBeau, and the group headed out.

"That was a nice thing you did, sir," Newkirk said after they'd gone.

"He's a good kid," Hogan replied, "He just needed a little guidance." He studied his English corporal for a moment. "How are you feeling, by the way, Newkirk?"

"Me, sir? Oh, I'm all right. A bit sore, mind you, but Wilson says I'll be right as rain in no time."

"And how long will that be?" Hogan asked, trying to pin him down.

Newkirk shrugged.

"Two weeks, sir," Kinch stated.

Newkirk threw Kinch a dirty look.

"Two weeks," Hogan repeated. "And how about you, Kinch? How long before your arm heals up?"

"I believe Wilson told 'im four weeks, if I'm not mistaken, sir," Newkirk piped up, glancing triumphantly at Kinch.

Kinch shot Newkirk a look of frustration, and then replied, "Yes, sir, that's what Wilson told me."

"I see," Hogan said, fighting the urge to smirk at them both. "Well, then, I suggest you get some rest; the sooner you both recover, the better."

"Yes, sir," Kinch and Newkirk answered in unison. As they turned to head up to the barracks, Newkirk nudged Kinch and muttered, "You didn't 'ave to tell 'im what Wilson said, you know."

"Neither did you, Peter."

When they got to the ladder, Kinch grabbed it; but before he could climb up, he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"I just wanted to say thanks, mate, for comin' back to get me."

Kinch smiled. "Anytime, Peter," he replied sincerely. Then he climbed up to the barracks and headed for his bunk, while Newkirk, who was right behind him, made a beeline for his own. As they both settled in for the night, they happened to glance at each other, and the look in their eyes was identical.

_Don't worry. I'll always have your back._

The End.


End file.
